


Black Wings Of Fate

by YunaYamiMouto



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, But with amnesia, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Drama, Everyone Wants Jack, F/M, Gen, Jack being Jack, M/M, Magic, Not as dirty as it sounds I promise, Oblivious James Norrington, Period Typical Attitudes, Pirates, Protective Jack Sparrow, Reincarnation, Sea Monsters, Size does matter, Slow Burn, Soulmates - sort of, Supernatural Elements, Temporary Character Death, Wings, bamf jack sparrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 123,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25962091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YunaYamiMouto/pseuds/YunaYamiMouto
Summary: For every fiftieth human born into the world, there is one guardian born for them, their souls connected by a single gem. Others have gems and guardians they can't ever see or meet. But James Norrington was born with a black pearl in his hand and a guardian so opposite to him that they could never be.
Relationships: Black Pearl & Jack Sparrow, Calypso | Tia Dalma & Jack Sparrow, Cutler Beckett/Jack Sparrow (one-sided), Hector Barbossa & Jack Sparrow, Jack Sparrow & Bootstrap Bill Turner, Jack Sparrow & Edward Teague, Jack Sparrow & Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow & Elizabeth Swann & Will Turner, Jack Sparrow & Rock Crab, Jack Sparrow & Will Turner, James Norrington/Jack Sparrow, Joshamee Gibbs & Jack Sparrow
Comments: 105
Kudos: 159





	1. Chapter 1

For centuries, before humanity could even remember its roots, there were guardians. Most immediately associate guardians with angels but they are not the same.

Guardians came into existence when an angel and a human fell in love, this so called 'sin' produced a progeny and the first winged human was born. The gods looked down upon such a union but love was love and they could not fault either parent for this 'sin'. So instead, the gods created a special system to cope with this new creature whose essence resided between the heavens and the earth. More angels reproduced with humans and more of these guardians were born until there was precisely a guardian for every fiftieth human alive. The gods deemed this a good number, half of perfection to represent half of a soul, and then gifted each human with a gem to represent their very soul. There was not much meaning to the selection of which human got which gem. It was random at most.

But it was fact that every fiftieth human possessed the exact same gem, size, color, shape, as one guardian. That guardian was that human's sole protector, their souls bound for all eternity, destined to meet over and over again in each new life until they are both content to pass on into the afterlife and rest together eternally. These guardians were later named Curatrix and the name stuck for centuries more. The bond between a Curatrix and their charge, their Tutela - although that name didn't stick nearly as easily as a simple 'charge' - was eternal and unbreakable, binding them together so strongly that not even the gods that made those bonds could break them.

Yet humans can. Humans always can break something, no matter how strong or indestructible. _Death_ could not separate two bound souls but humans _can_. For, you see, if either one of the two in the pair attack the other with a true desire to kill or, even worse, _do_ kill them in one of their lives, the connection between them will break forever. They can reincarnate for all eternity and they will never be able to rebuild their original bond. Now, here comes the part where it is emphasized that _humans_ can break a bond. Curatrix are part angel and that, no matter how many generations pass since that first coupling, conditions them to loving their human other half.

A Curatrix will be anything the human needs them to be, a friend, an enemy, a lover, a complete stranger, a helpful advisor, a sparing partner, a sibling, a cousin, a rival et cetera, et cetera. But it is up to the _human_ to decide as what they will accept them. They may accept them in one life but not in the next and so on. A Curatrix can take rejection and their bond will survive. But if the above mentioned situation happens that a human tries to kill their Curatrix out of hatred, their gems will break and the Curatrix is left with the choice to move on into the afterlife whenever they wish. Death by itself will never harm a gem but betrayal like true hatred will surely break it.

One more thing each human and guardian are to eventually come into the possession of is a representation of their soul, a item completely to themselves and not involved in their bond with a guardian/human. This _is_ highly symbolic, though, as it can be any item and the person will know it was that one because they will feel it resonating in their soul. It can be of varying sizes, unlike the gems which are all about as big as an adult's fingertip, and the bigger the item is, the stronger you are. This is mostly referring to Curatrix, as it applies to a magical, spiritual strength and only rare few humans still know anything of the magic arts. Curatrix are much more spiritually connected to the world than humans can ever be and the bigger their item is, the stronger they are, the steadier their powers are. The biggest recorded item in history is a common sword while the smallest can be a simple earring or even a plain old rock.

A Curatrix' strength is also additionally measured by the size of their wings. They all have wings of different colors and patterns but the size is what matters. The bigger their wings are, the stronger the guardian is. The biggest wing span recorded on a Curatrix - and people have been keeping records regarding guardians more painstakingly than for any amount of treasure - so far is an amazing ten feet. The smallest on an adult Curatrix is five feet five inches.

James Norrington, the six year old son of Admiral Lawrence Norrington, pirate hunter for his Majesty's Royal Navy, knows all of this because he had always been curious about his own gem, if you can call his black pearl as such. But in all the books that he's read in his three years of knowing how to read and in all the stories sailors, particularly one Joshamee Gibbs, told him about the mystical bond of Curatrix and Tutela, never has he heard or read about a guardian like the one sitting in front of him. It was a boy about twice his age, somewhere around twelve. The marines said he was a pirate but he seemed to young to be like the scary, cruel pirates his father told him about. He had been brought in with James' older cousin, Flitzwiliam P Dalton III just yesterday, meant to be used as bait for some other pirate James' father wanted to arrest and hang once and for all because he was a bad man. The boy had been sent straight to the brig, bound, gagged and chained and he had been here ever since.

James wasn't supposed to be here, no one was, as Curatrix were said to possess a charming ability to coax friendliness out of humans and this boy pirate seemed to have it in spades, according to Fitzwiliam. But something in the very deepest depths of young Norrington's soul had tugged him in this direction and, curious about a type of people he had only read or heard about, James hadn't resisted. When he got down here, the boy had managed to free himself, confirming what others said about him being a pirate and was busy prowling his cell like an agitated tiger James once saw in those gypsy circuses. James had stared at the beautiful wings protruding from his back, unbothered by the clothing there, as although they were solid to the touch and allowed actual flight, they were still only astral extensions of a guardian's soul. He had never heard of so colorful wings. They reminded him of a sparrow's wings with their pattern, snow white on dark brown with golden spots and only the faintest of outlines in black on some feather spines.

And they were _huge_ on the boy that was barely a head taller than James. They were already about six feet! On a child! James tried to imagine how big his wings will one day become, if he lived, and wondered if they will reach the record of ten feet. The ruffled and fluffed themselves as he muttered darkly under his breath, half formed escape plans being considered and discarded faster than James could count to five. It took him a while to notice the younger Norrington but when he had, he had stopped pacing and just stared, startlingly black eyes on childish green.

They had both felt the _tug_ in their souls and their mouths framed an _'Oh,'_ before they both took out their gems. Two matching black pearls, the only two 'gems' in the world that weren't actual gems, weren't crystals, weren't made of sediments but by an organic creature and of an organic matter. They had both thought themselves oddities and freaks but here there was someone with a matching black pearl. The other half of their soul.

They had both kind of just ... sat down, observing each other. Black eyes had taken in James' short black hair, curling around his youthful face, his green eyes, his pale skin, his tall and lanky frame for so young a boy and his fine clothing. James' green eyes in turn had taken in the pirate boy's slighter frame for all that he was already a sailor, his dark brown almost black, wild hair, the red bandanna holding it back from his tanned face, his worn clothing, his calloused hands and his impossibly black eyes. And his wings. James was fascinated by the now preening wings and his companion, Jack E. Teague as he had introduced himself, seemed to be enjoying his attention.

James was just young enough to not care that his Curatrix might as well be a pirate and was just overjoyed to have met him. He knew not all Curatrix find their Tutela, despite being connected by a strong bond. Besides ... They had talked. Jack wasn't any more fond of pirates than James was. He had even ran away from home because he had been surrounded by pirates, born into a pirate family in some cave or something. James had been more fascinated by how his wings were as animated as his fluttering hands as he talked. If Curatrix charmed, then James was definitely charmed, although not by any of Jack's Curatrix magic charms but by Jack himself.

Neither boy knew how long they had been like that, sitting in front of each other, marveling at the other's existence, their little black pearl's never leaving their hands, occasionally talking about their lives, families and everything in between. They were both surprisingly lonely and in a very similar position, as both their father's were men of power in their field and so their sons had to be protected but neither were coddled. When Jack had been James age, he had already been sent out to sail all four sides of the world with other pirates that were apparently some type of lords - Jack didn't bother to explain and James hadn't even bothered to ask, more interested in his Curatrix than some random pirates - and he now had more experience sailing than probably any marine on James' father's ship. He had even been captain, until recently, and had also been Fitzwiliam's friend. James apologized on his cousin's behalf for the betrayal he had dealt the guardian but Jack insisted it was not he who should be apologizing and that he didn't expect an apology in the first place.

"If anything, I should probably apologize to you." Jack had insisted and hadn't elaborated. James had pouted and they had been silent since. The young Norrington didn't want to be at odds with his guardian but he was still not pleased that his guardian would not tell him something that might end up being important.

But all of that was forgotten when the first cannonball hit the ship. Jack took hold of James wrist and flung him away just as another crashed through the hull, barely missing the younger boy, the debris nicking Jack's skin instead. The terrified six year old stared at the thin trickle of blood on his guardian's face even as more volleys attacked the ship, the marines overhead shouting and returning fire. His father's voice pierced the air like thunder but that wasn't enough to shake James out of it.

One Joshamee Gibbs was, however, as he ran into the brig, picking tools in hand and froze at the sight of the Admiral's son staring at the pirate boy. Remembering the boy's curiosity about guardians, Gibbs shook off his shock and instead knelt down beside the boy's cell and started picking at the lock. "Yer father's mighty unhappy, young sir."

"I can hear that fine on my own, mister." Jack commented almost dryly but he was watching Gibbs with a tilted head like a bird. Gibbs will deny it to his last dying breath but the intensity in the child's eyes left him unsettled. The size of his magnificent wings wasn't helping any. It was bad luck to trap a Curatrix. "I know you."

"Aye, you do, young sir."

"Get him somewhere safe." Jack said as he recognized where he remembered the man from and knew he could trust him. James realized that they were both looking at him and shakily got to his feet. He barely had his sea legs, as this was his first journey with his father out on open waters, his mother having died recently and there being no one to look after him back in Britain, so the jerking of the ship due to fire and return fire was not helping at all in keeping him upright. "He'll just get hurt."

"I can fight!" The young Norrington insisted. He could! His father had started teaching him sword fighting already and said he was proud that his son seemed so talented in the art.

"Not against the Keeper's men you can't." The Curatrix insisted, beckoning him over to the side of the door while Gibbs worked, trying not to be too obvious that he was interested in what the two boys were doing. James came over and was surprised to be tugged against the bars, his forehead pressed against Jack's, black eyes too close, leaving him almost dazed. "You're my Tutela. I have to protect you. That up there are the most capable pirates in all the world and my father is like me. I'm all he has left and he won't let Norrington have me. It's too dangerous."

"You're leaving?" That was all the younger boy could focus on. It wasn't fair! He had just met his guardian! He didn't want Jack to leave!

"Hey, don't be upset! We're soulmates, you and I, I and you, us." Jack gestured between them with a little grin, although he himself wasn't pleased he would have to leave his charge behind. "We'll meet again one day, I wager, when we're both older and can sail the sea on our own, savvy?"

"Promise?" James knew it was childish but he wanted Jack to promise him, even if it was to end up being nothing more than a lie. But it won't hurt anyone if Jack were to make that promise.

The Curatrix took his hand and intertwined their index fingers, making a childish but serious promise to a serious child. "On my gem and my item and my very soul, I swear that we will meet again." No greater vow could be made by a Curatrix and James accepted it with a nod of his head. Just then, Gibbs finished with the lock and the door opened. Jack sprinted out, wings folding themselves back into his back, disappearing from sight as he ran up on the deck. James reached for him desperately, instinct kicking in but Jack was out of his sight before he could even lift his arm. But James was out of Gibbs' sight before the sailor could stop him, running after his guardian into the battle going on.

Up on the main deck, though, it was chaos. James had never seen so terrifying a sight. There were pirate everywhere, dead and dying and alive and fighting and plundering. There were marines, too, in red and in blue jackets, in no jackets at all, bleeding and dying and fighting and killing and it was all so scary for a mere six year old that James started trembling where he had frozen. He saw his father dueling a pirate in an elaborate red coat who bore a great resemblance to his guardian. The pirate must have been captain and Jack's father, for he was furious but not nearly as James' father. He was one hell of a fighter, though, as he was easily controlling the pace, no matter how much Lawrence tried to outdo him. It might have the blinding rage in his father that gave the other the edge. His father looked like a man possessed, lunging and swinging in a way he always told James never to do. The pirate was nimble, though, and James wondered if he really was a guardian _if_ he was really Jack's father. He had heard guardians can anticipate some things, like a sixth sense of the world around them, not counting the spiritual senses they had that humans could only sell their soul for. But that was supposed to only be possible for a guardian's charge, if James had heard right.

"Give it up, Teague! You're pirating days are over! I'll hang you from your own yardarm!" Lawrence yelled at Teague, making one more lunge, this one true and unavoidable for humans as it would send the pirate overboard into the by now shark infested waters as more and more blood fell into the sea. But to James' amazement, Teague leaped into the air and spread red-gold-black nine feet three inches long wings, their pattern seemingly random as he hovered over Lawrence before landing on the other side of the ship. How odd. It was as though he was avoiding a fight with him. But why would a pirate pass up the opportunity to get rid of a pirate hunter like James' father.

"You couldn't catch when I was unwilling to fight you, what makes you think you'll get me now?"

"I have your son!" Teague snook a glance at where said son was fighting Fitzwiliam and James was almost distracted by his Curatrix's movements as he fought his cousin in some strange style that didn't resemble fencing almost at all that he almost didn't hear his father's next words. "Give it up! Your nature as my Curatrix prevents you from causing me harm!"

"You severed that bond long ago!" Teague replied, parrying another attack to his person just as Jack blocked Fitzwiliam's lunge. But James could only gap at what he heard. Why would his father severe something as wondrous as a bond to his Curatrix?

"Because you chose _her_ over _me_!" The older Norrington screamed, startling the two dueling boys still in their locked swords, eyes wide as they stared at the two men. James was fairly gapping by now. The pirates didn't stop fighting, though. The cannons were still firing. "You chose _her_ over your own _Tutela_!"

"You _broke our bond_ long before I married Thailicia!" Thundered the man in the red coat. "You have _no right_ to blame this on me! I tried to make you reconsider! You broke our bond, Norrington and now you dare try to take my son, that which is most precious to my heart!? I won't let you!" His father could barely keep up after that, Teague a blur of red rage, using wings to stop anyone from interfering in their fight, although from James' point of view, it still looked like he was shielding his father if anyone got too close. Even after that betrayal, a Curatrix was loyal to their Tutela? James swore, right then and there, that he will never betray Jack, that he will never break their bond. He knew very little of the boy that was his guardian but they had a promise to meet again. They'll get to know each other then.

A pirate was making his way towards James and Mr Gibbs, who had just caught up, was too late to call out a warning when the big man swatted him out of the way and straight through the hole in the railing where a cannonball had blown it away. He flew straight overboard and the last thing he heard before he hit the water was Jack calling out his name. The sea was cold this far out in the Atlantic, closer to Europe than either America or Africa where it was warmer and the shock the six year old's body went through was enough to make him automatically panic. He started kicking desperately, trying to reach the surface, but the debris in the water was in the way. What's worse, the rope of the blown up forestay sail had managed to somehow wrap around his ankle and was dragging him down. James could not kick it off and so he curled up in order to try and free himself, but that only made him sink faster. He nearly lost his breath in his panic until scrawny arms and beautiful, familiar wings wrapped around him.

Jack, who had jumped in after him, was trying to drag him to the surface, feet and wings fighting the drag of the wet sail. But Jack was not yet strong enough to counter a sail, no matter how big his wings were for his age. They were running out of time. The edges of James eyes were turning black and he just clung to his Curatrix, wishing more than anything else that they had had more time. There was a splash up above them and a shadow obscuring the sun but the six year old couldn't care less. He was in his guardian's arms and, even if they were sinking, he was content. There was a twin to his black pearl. He wasn't alone. He had met the other half of his soul.

James wasn't sure but he thought he saw a strange shipwreck beneath them, rising, before it was obscured by big red wings and it all went black.


	2. Chapter 2

A panting, gasping, sweating young man sat up in a lavish, silk covered bed, green eyes wild and frightened as the last remains of his half forgotten memory slowly faded from his mind when bigger, red wings filled his vision before it all was gone, almost just like a sandcastle in the tide. A pale hand came up to run through shoulder length sweat drenched hair as his ears registered the bird song outside. Sparrows, if he knew their voices well enough. The young man stood shakily and opened the curtains of his bed chambers, startling the small birds and making them fly away as the first rays of a wonderful Caribbean morning flooded his room.

"Mr Norrington, sir," the voice of his housekeeper called with a knock. "Breakfast is ready for you, sir. Better hurry up before it cools. You have a big day ahead of you." She poked her elderly head in and smiled at her boss, who nodded in thanks and waited until she closed his door to once again look out at the sea.

It had been twenty six years since that day, when James L. Norrington had first met his Curatrix on his father's ship, a certain Jack E. Teague, who had the most beautiful wings James ever saw on any guardian and he had met a few since then. He had not seen or heard hide or hair of his Curatrix and James was both glad and disappointed, as his father had learned his guardian was a pirate and would not allow James to even considering making an official bond with him. He was glad Jack didn't show up again because James had been enlisted into the Navy just the next year and would have been expected to arrest and hand him over to be hanged for acts of piracy, but he was still disappointed that Jack had not returned to fulfill his promise.

Perhaps it was for the best, as James was no longer that little boy who had asked for that promise. He had changed. Perhaps too much so for his pirate Curatrix to like anymore.

That day, during that battle, James had fallen overboard and Jack had jumped in after him in a desperate ditch effort to save him but, in the end, it had been Captain Edward Teague who had saved both boys since Jack had refused to let go. The older Curatrix had then taken his son and they ran away on the infamous Misty Lady, disappearing from sight for a good seven months. His father had not been pleased with James, not one bit. In fact, Lawrence had made it quite clear that he would have rather seen James dead and at the bottom of the sea than owe a pirate and _Teague_ of all people. Poor Mr Gibbs had to console a small, crying child after Lawrence ignored all of his son's attempts to apologize. And despite Jack sending comfort down their connection through their gems - or rather their _pearls_ in their case - James had changed that day and came to hate all pirates. A part of him protested such a stereotypical, uniformed hate, especially since his Curatrix was technically still a pirate, but his new opinion seemed to satisfy Lawrence so James did his best to keep it up. A practice made easier the more he saw how cruel some of them can be.

He had a natural talent for sailing and swordsmanship and he had quickly stood out for his sharp wit and authoritative disposition, so he had easily climbed through ranks. And today was the day he, scourge of pirates in the Caribbean, one of the Royal Navy's best pirate hunters, will be promoted to Commodore by the Governor of Port Royal. He should feel proud, as he was one of the youngest Lieutenants to be promoted first to captain of his own ship and now Commodore - he was only thirty! - but it somehow didn't hold nearly as much satisfaction as he had expected. He blamed that on his Curatrix being a pirate and him dreading that he will one day accidentally break their bond. They had both grown up, without a doubt. Would they even recognize each other? Curatrix are said to always being able to recognize their Tutela, but what about the other way around?

James sighed and shook his head, turning towards his toilette table. He pushed all such thoughts out of his head and instead focused on what this day was to bring. Mot of all, what his little ... side deal with Governor Swann might bring. He was nervous, as he was not at all ready to be married, but the good Governor had been dropping not so subtle hints that his only daughter, one beautiful Elizabeth Swann whom James was fond of, was ready for marriage and that she needed a 'fitting' husband to 'quell her pirate fantasies'. Personally, James thought her better suited for William Turner, who was closer to her age and helplessly in love with the girl, not to mention that it was reciprocated. Yes, James found the Governor's daughter lovely company, very beautiful and even held some affection for her, but that affection was undefined, as one moment his more primal side saw her as a partner while other times, he saw her as a sister.

And then there was the matter of Jack. For all that he had no iota of a semblance of a thought as to what the now man was up to, what he looked like and how he acted, James held that more primal fondness for him. He had once asked a priest about wanting him, another boy - he had been fifteen, back then, and oh so foolish to have believed a priest won't babble to his father when it was a known fact that particular priest flirted with recent widows and took bribes - and not only had he been brushed off as it being those 'sinful creatures' seductive, mind-controlling powers that are possessing you, boy, for it is unholy to love a man when you are a man yourself' but his father had also learned about it and he'd been berated for it. He still never forgot Jack and he had to hide his black pearl from his father lest the man throw it into the sea. If he had the reassurance it will end up with Jack, James would have let him.

That is, if he did not fear his Curatrix could not recognize him without it. If he did not fear not being able to feel Jack at all.

James just sighed again and did his best to not think about Jack for at least one day of his life since he had met his beautiful Curatrix. Today was his day. He can contemplate his guardian tomorrow. Or at least wait until tonight. He needed to think up a way to propose properly to a lady of status, after all.

00000

As he glided into the harbor of Port Royal, fully aware of the stares he was getting while he stood on the topmast of his single, small sail while his little boat sank slowly to the bottom of the harbor, wind whipping his hair and beads around and making him look utterly dramatic, Captain Jack Sparrow did his best not to smirk. _'Feast your eyes, mateys, for a real pirate has come.'_ He thought giddily, wondering just how much of an uproar he could make even as his impossibly black eyes took stock of all the wonderful little boats - in comparison to his lady love, most of them were - and the Navy ships from which he could choose for his soon to be half formed commandeering plans. He was in need of a ship and then he will find a crew and set sail once more. Land was no place for a creature desperate in the need of the sea like himself. He would die of boredom on these dirt balls, he was sure, no matter how big.

Not to mention that he was on many a wanted posters and he would rather not face the noose. Bloody obsessed midget lords of companies.

Still, it was bloody fun to flutter about, confusing poor, poor marines as 'Mr Smith' inspected the pretty Interceptor. She was a fine lass, made for speed, smaller and lighter than the ship he wants to hunt, not that it would help her much. Her hull is much too shallow and while that had its advantages, it didn't let the ship catch the deeper underwater currents that can at times be all that pushes a ship when there's no wind. Not to mention that his target has a special built to her hull that is ideal to cut through the waves, less water resistance. Gods, he missed her. Hopefully fair Interceptor will help him get her back.

He was in the middle of telling the two idiots about that one time that one tribe had made him their chief when something pricked at the edges of his senses. He almost stopped talking as he registered nervousness and disguised a fond smile behind a smug smirk at the wide eyed stare the skinnier of the two marines was giving him while sending waves of reassurance to his Tutela. For years now, Jack had been aiding him from a distance, sharing his strength over their link, sending his support, trying to sooth his charge. He missed the other terribly, his soul calling out for him like only a Curatrix's can after they find their Tutela. Usually when a pair find each other, they spend the rest of their days together or at least within walking distance. But Fate had been cruel to put them in two completely different and opposite worlds. A Tutela from a Navy family and a Curatrix born a pirate. They could never come together as long as they both persist in continuing their way of life and Jack had nothing else to turn to because of ... _some_ people who he will not honor by naming.

"And that when they made me chief." He finished the story just as a spike of _fear_ had his head snapping up towards Fort Charles just in time to see some lady fall into the water bellow, somewhat miraculously not hitting any of the rocks. He looks to his two companions, expectant. "Well, aren't you going to save her?"

"I can't swim?" Mullroy says, scared, while Murtogg just shrugs helplessly. Jack rolls his eyes at them in disgust and sheds his coat, hat and effects.

"Sailors." He looks up and sees a struggle up in the Fort, two blue coats. The new Commodore wants to play hero, eh? The lass was lucky enough to have missed the rocks. Would he? Jack rather doubted it. Not everyone had Fortune's favor like he did. It would seem he had no choice. It pissed him off that these were the type of people who dared accuse some people of turning to piracy because they were lazy or cowards. It pissed him off that he, a pirate, had to play hero. It's going to mess with his reputation as an infamous scoundrel of a pirate. Seriously. "Fine." He hands his effects to Murtogg and to Mullroy. "Don't lose those."

Without further ado, Jack jumped into the water almost without making a splash. Under the water, where no one can see him, he let his wings spread, shooting him through like a bullet. With the size of them, he needed only two flaps to get to the drowning woman. He grabbed her around the waist, surprised at the weight of so petite a woman until he recognized the type of dress she was in. London style. Yee gods, those things were deadlier than some of the exotic weapons in Singapore! The pirate quickly divested her of the dress and left her only in her white underdress and loincloth before he started flapping with his wings. It won't be a problem for _them_ to keep them both up but he won't show his wings to just anyone. He'd stopped doing that well over ten years ago. He wouldn't have drowned, Curatrix or not, but it would be best for the Missy to get at least some air into her lungs or cough up water so he surfaced and started swimming towards the two idiots. Dragging a limp woman along was a lot harder than he made it look, even for a swimmer as good as he was. Dragging a limp woman in as many layers and no doubt a bodice was even harder but he made it and the two idiots took the woman from him as he hauled himself up.

"Not breathing," Mullroy says quickly, both panicked marines looking at the man that seemed to know what he was doing and keeping a cool head.

"Move," the slightly breathless pirate orders and drags himself over to the downed woman. As soon as he is beside her, he takes out a knife and slices her corset in half, right down the middle, flinging the damned thing away and at Murtogg and just waits. The young woman is still for a long moment before she suddenly gasps in a desperate breathe and just the slightest tinge of color returns to her face. Jack winces in sympathy. He had had to use a corset once in Singapore, to escape a certain sticky situation, and he knew you can't bloody breathe in those things.

"I never would have thought of that." Mullroy says with half shock, half awe and Jack justs sends him a look that speaks for itself and the man flushes, realizing he hadn't thought to do _anything_ for the Missy.

"Clearly you've never been to Singapore." Although those London folk tend to make these things even more tight. Sparrow is _very_ glad he avoids 'polite' society indeed. He looks down at the gasping woman and his senses tingle when his eyes pass over her earring. Not unusual, for people to put their gems into pieces of jewelry. Jack just didn't get the chance to decide which one it was when his eyes fell on a gold medallion, a skull in the middle of it, very well made. A cold sensation runs through him and his hand reaches for his waist, where his pistol would usually be. "Where did you get that?" He asks as the woman looks up at him, her eyes confused and fascinated and for a moment, Jack has to wonder if he had allowed his wings to unfurl.

Before he could get an answer or check his back, the tip of a blade came to rest at his throat and he freezes. Another tingling down his senses, only stronger, one Jack has just enough time to recognize as a proximity to a person's item before a cold voice interrupts his line of thought and the world seems to come to a standstill for the Curatrix.

"On your feet," a posh English accented voice says as the new Commodore held the pirate at sword point, marines surrounding him and what must have been the governor. Not that any of that mattered to Jack. His senses were tingling. His _wings_ were tingling, begging to be unfurled to the inspection of his mate. Only it can't be that his mate is here. Jack wasn't _ready_ to face him. His Tutela, his charge ... Why here? Why now?

"Elizabeth!" The Governor called, coming quickly to what must have been his daughter, draping his jacket around her shoulders, fretting in a most annoying manner, if you asked the only Curatrix present. And he _was_. He could not sense another Curatrix on the entire island of Jamaica. There seemed to be three Tutela, though. How odd.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." The young woman, evidentially Elizabeth, said as close to snapping while still polite, before she turned to the new Commodore. "Commodore Norrington, do you intend to kill my rescuer?"

Jack only became more tense at the name he heard. Norrington was not exactly a fond name for him, with one exception. He looked up as he did a little half bow he learned in the East to Elizabeth and marveled at the green eyes that met his and his soul _sang_ in happiness. There was no doubt. The young man tucking away his sword - a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, Jack noticed, and his item - was his Tutela, the young boy all grown up into a handsome man. He stared at the offered hand before his instincts kicked in, the more human side that is, and he looked at the owner wearily.

"I believe thanks are in order." The pirate frowned and gingerly reached out, anticipating what will happen but unable to resist. Twenty six years have passed that he had not seen, heard or touched his Tutela and the Curatrix side of his brain wanted, _needed_ to touch his charge again. He takes Norrington's hand - the _tingles_ \- and they shake before Norrington pulls on Jack's arm, unintentionally bringing him closer as he yanks up the sleeve at Jack's wrist, revealing an ugly burn scar in the clear shape of a P and a little higher above it a tattoo, a tattoo of a small bird, a _sparrow_ , flying above water.

"Had a brush in with the East India Trading Company, pirate?" Jack hissed as though he was being branded again, memories coming back in a rush even as a dozen muskets were pointed at him. Norrington seemed unaware of how he was tracing his tattoo, though, even as he continued talking. "Well, well." He said with snide amusement, drawling in a deadpan voice. "Jack Sparrow, is it?"

" _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, if you please." Despite wanting to keep contact with his charge, Jack's human side was currently in control. Curatrix needs and wants be damned, Jack wanted to _live_. He noticed how a few of the men around were shifting uneasily and the awed expression on young Elizabeth's and one of the Lieutenant's faces and had to repress a smirk. It would seem he was famous enough in these waters. Good.

"I don't see your ship," Norrington made an over exaggerated look around the harbor and found only the Interceptor. " _Captain_."

"I'm in the market," he said distractedly, searching Norrington's person for that one thing that will set him apart as _Jack's_ Norrington, not paying attention to much else despite being aware of all that was being said and done, such as the good Commodore examining his affects - hey now! No need to dis his Compass just because it was different! - and thinking of ways he could escape without anyone coming into harm's way. Hey, if he could sack Nassau without firing a single shot, this couldn't be too much harder, right? He was Captain Jack Sparrow!

"You are without a doubt the _worst_ pirate I've ever heard of."

 _That's because I'm a Curatrix and hate meaningless death, violence and cruelty as a bonus_ , is what Jack _wanted_ to say but knew the rest of his reputation would be in tatters. Instead, he allowed his swagger to show and a small smirk to cross his face. "Ah, but you _have_ heard of me." Which could not be said for some of the cruelest pirates out there. Jack shuddered just thinking about them.

"Shackle him, Lieutenant Gillette." The taller man ordered, keeping a sharp eye on the pirate. "Careful, Lieutenant." He warned, watching a peculiar look cross the tanned face.

"Commodore, I must protest." Elizabeth said, taking a step forwards, as if to put herself between the two men and Jack's mind sparked with an idea. He took careful stock of his surroundings and deemed it doable. He just needed to wait for the opportune moment. "Pirate or not, this man saved my life."

"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a life time of wickedness." At the protesting sound she made, her father pulled on her arm to shush her even as Jack was shackled by the eager, pirate disliking Lieutenant Gillette. Oh, Jack will be remembering this one.

"But it seems enough to condemn him," Jack threw at Norrington with a small smile that lacked all humor.

"But-"

Norrington returned the smile, ignoring the lady's protests. "Indeed." Pirate safely chained, the Commodore nodded to his men and made ready to start the march towards the gaols of Fort Charles is when Jack saw his opportunity.

"Finally," he groused and in a swift move had Elizabeth held hostage, the chain of his manacles around her neck, using her as a body shield against the men of the law. "Commodore Norrington, my pistol and belt, please." At his hesitation, Jack backed away with a jerk, making the girl lose balance and gasp despite remaining unhurt. "Commodore!" He warned and was pleased when they were handed over to Elizabeth. He took his pistol and pointed it to her head, turning her around so she faced him. "Elizabeth- it _is_ Elizabeth?"

"Miss Swann." Ah, the lass had fire in her. More angry than frightened. Jack already liked this one.

"Miss Swann, if you'll be so kind?" He asked, keeping a sharp eye on the green eyed Commodore. Were his eyes deceiving him or was that the twin to his black pearl on the good Commodore's cravat pin? Ah, so it _was_ his Jamie! He grew to be a fine man. Jack had to fight not to smile affectionately at his Tutela. Now was not the time. Especially not with the pissed Elizabeth angrily replacing his effects. He leaned in closer to whisper in her ear, hiding his lips in her wet hair so no one, if they knew how, could read his lips. "Don't worry, lass. I mean you no harm whatsoever." He pulls away and sees a rather interesting look on her face. She keeps searching for something over his shoulder. Jack knew there was no one behind him so what was she looking at? Or _for_? _'Had she seen me wings?'_ He couldn't help but wonder. "I saved your life and you've saved mine. Now we're square." He said loud enough for all to hear. He took them both a few steps away from the Navy boys, keeping up the act. "Gentlemen, m'Lady. You will always remember this day as the day you _almost_ caught _Captain_ Jack Sparrow."

With that, he shoved Elizabeth towards the men, grabbed a rope and released a belying pin. The counter weight drops and Jack is lifted to the middle of the gantry. He sees and grabs a second rope just as pistols start firing, missing him thankfully enough as he swings out, out, out and away. Norrington, the pirate noted, was holding his shot but Jack knew he was following him with his aim simply because of how his wings wished to preen under his intention. Just as he feels the Commodore is ready to shoot, Jack decides to let them and with a grin, let Norrington shoot through the rope and his wings unfurl as it snaps. With an inner whoop that he can never quite suppress, Jack takes flight, his _huge_ black wings taking him higher until he was right above the clear docks and he drops, running away and cackling like a madman in his own head.

He was way too smug that it took the Navy a good minute before they snapped out of their shock to start chasing him.


	3. Chapter 3

James rubbed the bridge of his nose as he studied the map that now had a Turner ax-shaped tear in it. The boy had more of a temper than Norrington had thought. But he guessed he could understand his worry for Elizabeth. Governor Swann looked ready to break down any moment now and James wasn't exactly indifferent himself, although he could put up a better front than either of them. What a way for yesterday to go and end.

He blamed Sparrow. It had been a fine day until he had laid eyes on the man and something in him that he wasn't sure he could identify fluttered. He had been having as close to a perfect day as it could be. He had found his item - a beautiful sword made by one William Turner; it had taken him thirty two years to find his item but the sword fit perfectly in his hand and it seemed to hum to him, not that James believed a sword can do such a thing, even if it is an item - he had become Commodore and he had been about to ask Elizabeth for her hand in marriage when she fell off of that parapet. She was lucky to not have died on impact or drowned, although the latter was Sparrow's doing, as much as it galled him to admit it. He was grateful for that.

But then Sparrow had to turn out to be, well, _Sparrow_. A pirate wanted for 10,000 gunnies. Alive, no less. A lord from the East India Trading Company wanted to have a word with him or something but the Navy were not reward collectors and Sparrow was to face the gallows. He had made an escape worthy of all his stories but Will claimed that Sparrow could have killed him easily but refused to. It had to be a part of his Curatrix nature. What a mockery to that kind that Sparrow was one of them, a _pirate_. A pirate _mockery_.

Still, James would have preferred him to the pirates that raided Port Royal last night and took Elizabeth with them. Sparrow had proven to be harmless, no threat at all. But, harmless or not, he was still a pirate and justice had to be served. But he will have to wait. They had no time to waste. "Men, prepare the Interceptor. Make haste. There is no time to lose."

He has no time to wonder why the black pearl at his neck is humming, either.

00000

Jack contemplates the young man hanging on to the yardarm of the Interceptor's mast. The resemblance and his mannerisms were striking and Jack was surprised he hadn't felt it before. A Curatrix, while only having one charge, one _Tutela_ , can take as many humans under their wig for occasional protection as they have feathers. It's not nowhere near as strong a bond as the one he shares with James but it's strong enough that the Curatrix could feel their protectee's death if it should happen or if it looms over them, hovering, waiting to see if it can prey on another soul or if something will interfere. A small part of such a link can be carried on to offspring and Jack once knew another William Turner, who happens to be this William's father. They even had the same original views on piracy but Jack had quickly grown on Bill and he had come with the eccentric pirate out to sea after helping him escape the gaols. It seems to be a family tradition.

Young Will he had first met in a blacksmith's shop and their first encounter had been a duel of sorts. The boy was a good swordsman and had seemed to take delight in having an opponent to test himself against, but his sour view of pirates made what could have been a fun, friendly duel rather bitter. Their encounter had ended without Jack realizing what made Will so familiar in his mind, being knocked out by the drunk and until then dead to the world Mr Brown before he was dragged away by Norrington's men. When he had awoken in a cell, he had been more worried about the sorrowful hums his gem - not really a gem, now was it, since it was an actual black pearl - was giving off and the thought that his Tutela would accidental forever break their bond than he was about the actual hanging part.

In the cell next to his were a bunch of spineless cowards, trying to get the prison dog - who Jack, to his great exasperation, recognized as Doggy, his Da's loyal pooch and as such knew these idiots won't be getting the keys from him - to come closer and exchange the keys for some old, molding bone. Jack, you see, would rather break the bone and try to pick the lock if he were them. Doggy ain't going to hand those keys over, Jack knew from experience as a lad. It was a boring night and Jack spent most of it wondering whether Elizabeth - a random woman he saved from drowning that turned out to be the Governor's daughter and his Tutela's wanted bride - was alright, what the interesting blacksmith was up to and what his James was doing. He wasn't all too surprised he hadn't been recognized. It had been twenty six years, after all. He was no longer the twelve year old still almost completely naive to the truths of the world who needed his Da to come looking for him every time he got into trouble. Jack wouldn't have minded if he had met James again somewhere between eighteen and twenty five. Especially between his twentieth and twenty fifth birthdays. He had been a respected privateer in those years before ... Yeah, he's not going to think about that. It was a shame they could meet only after any sort of true bonding could never come to happen.

He had been musing as such when he had first felt and then heard a familiar presence just a few miles off coast. And then there was the even more familiar cannon fire. _The_ _Black Pearl_ , his soul had shuddered happily and she had sang back to him, _My Captain_. Ten years. Ten years apart and he could not answer her call. Even as she fired at the cells, it missed his just a little off mark and he could not escape. He met some of his old crew, traitors and mutineers, the lot of them. He had been neither here nor there when he had seen they had fallen victim to the curse of the Aztec Gold. He wasn't cruel, even to those who earned his cruelty. Instead, a plan started forming. That Elizabeth had a coin. Was she adopted? Did Bill's wife remarry and had a second kid while he was gone? So many options were running through his brain that Jack didn't even notice when it all calmed down and daylight started streaming into his cell. Doggy had ran off when the cursed pirates had come down to the cells so Jack started working on the lock as he would have suggested to the prisoners that had escaped.

Some hours later came young Will, asking about the Black Pearl and for Jack's assistance in rescuing dear Miss Swann. After realizing who Will was, exactly, and who that coin actually belonged to, Jack had agreed and was sprung free. Taking his effects, Jack had led them down to where the Interceptor was being prepared and he smiled with pride. He liked how his Jamie thinks, although he had no idea what he was getting himself into. So after a brilliant plan involving an overturned boat in order to get them to sneak up underwater to the big Dauntless, scaring the crap out of some marines - take that, Lieutenant Gillette! - tricking the good Commodore to bring out the pretty Interceptor and commandeering her instead while disabling the Dauntless' rudder chain and waving to them all as he sailed away with the fastest ship in the Caribbean. Pft! As if! Wait till they see his beloved Pearl in open waters!

Will had next to no idea what he was doing but Jack was a sailor his whole life and gladly taught him each step, guiding him through it as they made underway to Tortuga. But then the blacksmith had remembered _why_ Jack had helped and demanded to know about his father and proceeded to be angry when Jack told him about Bootstrap Bill Turner. Hey, don't blame _Jack_ if you can't take it that your daddy's a pirate! Jack didn't make him! He sighed at the conflicted look on the young man's face and swung him back over to the deck.

"Look, whelp, your father was a good man. You can say about pirates all you want and you'll probably be more than right on more than half of those points, but piracy doesn't exclude a person being good. Look at me!" To make his point, in case word hadn't gotten out that he was a guardian, Jack let his huge wings spread behind him, rolling his eyes at the awe on Will's face. It got old real fast,although he guessed the size of his wings _was_ impressive. That's not the point, though. "If piracy was enough to brand me a bad person or evil or whatever, I certainly wouldn't be a half angel by nature."

"There are fallen angels," came the rather weak argument, Will standing up and eying the tops of his wings curiously, as if he wanted to touch them. Jack thought about it before swatting the lad over the head gently with the feather tips of his left wing, turning back to the helm.

"Fallen angles' wings are in a constant state of molting and they look bloody. Or at least from what I've seen. And angles and Curatrix are practically a different species, since Curatrix have more human features and characteristics than angelic ones. For one, we can sin. For another, we don't even have to believe in your Christian God as you all seem to think we have to. The world's not nearly as black and white as you think, whelp."

"So my father was really a pirate?" Will sighed in almost disappointment and Jack gave him a sympathetic look.

"'Tain't that bad, Will. He wasn't a cold cutthroat or a merciless raper or anything grizzly like that. I didn't let anyone in my crew be but they didn't seem to like that." Jack cut himself off before he could say anything more. Now was not the time and the lad didn't need to know just how he was connected to Barbossa and his ilk. "Anyway, I can see the questions chokin' ye. Ask away. I don't promise I will answer but it never hurts to ask, savvy?"

"Are you really a guardian?"

Jack had to snort at that but let the stretching of his wings be his answer. "Although the right term would be Curatrix. You say guardian and people immediately think angel. It's a bit annoying, really. Like I said, there are some key differences between an Angel and a Curatrix. And please don't ask such stupid questions or I will put a limited number on them. I know you're a smart lad, don't make yourself look foolish."

Will flushed with embarrassment. "Right. How did you meet my father?"

"Much the same way I met you. Well, the second time 'round. He sprang me out of jail. Thought I was unjustly being brought to justice. Unfortunately, he was seen and he had no choice but to run away. He wasn't as lucky as you that the one _you're_ saving is a Governor's daughter. You might be granted clemency. Good ol' Bill just didn't want to see the man who unknowingly saved his pregnant wife from some cutthroats hang."

Will blinked at that, understanding the implications. Jack grinned at the slow gap that was developing. He so loved having such an affect on people. Turner shook his head as if to get rid of the thought before focusing on the matter at hand. "Were you his ... what was it you called it? Curotrix?"

"Curatrix," Sparrow immediately corrected and directed Will to tighten one of the lines, waiting until he finished before answering. "And no, I wasn't. I'm not. But I have taken him under me wing, big as they are." He indicated at his black wings one last time before furling them back into his back. Humans always marveled at the disappearance of the flying appendages, Jack mused with a snort. You would think after centuries of living with Curatrix they'd be used to it by now, no matter how much rarer Curatrix are in comparison to humans. "That means I acted like a bodyguard for him and his, at times. It was why I recognized something in _you_. Bill was one of many but also one of the last that I dared declare my own, so to speak. It's been a hard past ten years, mate."

"Do you even have a charge?"

"Every Curatrix has a Tutela, Will. It's only that every fifth pair ever meets and every tenth loses their connection because the human comes to hate his guardian or accidentally kills him somehow. For all that it's fabled to be unbreakable, the bond is actually very fragile. One simple act is enough to snap that which is meant to last an eternity."

"You never answered my question." Will frowns, coming to stand by the pirate at the helm. Black eyes turn to him and Jack arches an eyebrow.

"I did."

"Well, who is it?"

William was surprised to see Jack's expression become cold and unreadable. Gone was the warm twinkle in his eyes and instead he looked at Will as though he expected Will to take out a knife and cut his throat. "That's not a matter for you to ask about, William. Tutela are a private matter." Will wisely backed off and Jack grinned again. "Now, we are still some time away from Tortuga but thankfully, this pretty lass is quick. We'll get a crew and get right on to rescuing your bonny lass and you can then go back to Port Royal, be the hero and forget you ever met me, savvy?"

Will chuckled and shook his head. "I don't think anyone can forget you, Jack."

"Of course not," he said, took off his hat and did a flourish, theatric, little bow. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

They carried on in good spirits and genuine laughter for such a dire mission.

00000

"Are you sure we should be going this way, James?" Governor Weatherby Swann fretted. "Not that I don't trust your judgment but this isn't the same way that pirate and Turner went."

"They can't sail forever by themselves, no matter how experienced either of them is, ergo they are off to pick up a crew. No doubt in that dint Tortuga." The newly made Commodore said patiently even as he studied the maps. He hated how slow the Dauntless was. If they were indeed chasing the infamous Black Pearl, folk tales and superstitions aside, that ship was possibly the fastest ship to ever hit the water. Her design was unique and from what little he had seen, she cut through water like his fine new sword would through butter. That was why he had wanted to take the Interceptor but it would seem Jack Sparrow had the same idea. The pirate, despite all appearances and evidence pointing otherwise, was apparently a strategical genius. James had not seen the theft of the Interceptor until it was too late and the trick with the rudder chain ... brilliant.

If only Lieutenant Theodore Groves wasn't so impressed and Lieutenant Philip Gillette so pissed maybe James could think more objectively about this new opponent he'd stumbled across. It has been a while since he'd been presented with a challenge.

"Yes, but ... How will they track her?" The good Governor asked, fretting again. "I mean, it would surely be easier to follow them than that black ship. We'd even know where to start but how will they find her? How will they track Elizabeth?"

"Mr Sparrow is, it has been made apparent, a guardian." James said as he finally looked up from his maps and started making his way up on deck. The older man followed him at as brisk a pace as he could. Lieutenants Groves and Gillette saluted him as he came to stand next to the captain, giving him new directions of the changed course. "Guardians have ways to perceive the world we cannot fathom so I am guessing he will be able to find her eventually just fine. If they don't get lost with that broken Compass of his."

"Are you suggesting Captain Sparrow is Miss Swann's guardian, Commodore?" Groves asked in an almost breathy voice. There were stars in his eyes at the thought of the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow and James just shook his head. He did not feel the most comfortable discussing Curatrix when his own gem was acting strange. He resisted the urge to finger the black pearl he always wore in his cravat when outside of his bedchamber. He had never told anyone besides his family and a physician just what his gem was. It was simply asking for trouble, as he and his Curatrix were the only couple in recorded history to have anything other than a crystal for a gem. And James _had_ checked. Many times over the years.

"It is not impossible a notion but I rather doubt it." He replied. "There were no cream colored diamonds found on Mr Sparrow when a further search was conducted before he was placed in his cell. Only lots and lots of weird trinkets, I heard. Most of them weaved into his hair so throughly that it is near impossible to get them out."

"But I heard that a guardian can take someone under their wing, so to speak."

"Shut up, Theo. Now's not the time for your obsession with guardians and pirates." Gillette hissed, stomping his friend's foot, making him restrain a yelp. Norrington just shook his head at the two. He swears, they were sometimes worse than Mullroy and Murtogg.

His item and gem remained humming.


	4. Chapter 4

Getting to Tortuga was great (minus the two slaps from Scarlett and Giselle; he really wondered why he still kept them under his wing, despite how many times they slapped him in the face). Meeting up with one Mr Joshamee Gibbs (another of his protectees) was great. Getting a bit of rum and making a plan was great. Getting a crew was great. Seeing Annamaria (yes, also another of his protectees; don't judge him, he's had many years to meet many people and become fond of them enough to extend his protection) was also great, although he could have really done without her slap as well. Setting out to sea again was great. Getting some respect out of the whelp and his crew when they heard about his escape after marooning (not exactly accurate but not entirely wrong, either) was great. Catching up to his Pearl was great (how he longed to feel her under his boots!). Hell, even seeing his old traitorous crew was great (he did not appreciate being hit over the head with an oar, thank you very much, Will), for all that they hated each other's guts.

But then he was taken prisoner aboard his own ship - still was great to be able to press against her black wood and soak in her presence, though. Oh, how he had missed her and he was pleased to see she had missed him as well. Barbossa had not been treating her well, the bastard - and the cursed pirates started chasing the poor, outmatched and out-gunned Interceptor. He had escaped, saved Miss Swann again, was captured again with the rest of his new crew and then marooned on the same bloody island like last time, only he had company this time around. He was bloody sick of having to watch his beloved ship sail away while she desperately sang to him as she got further and further away and they were barely on the edges of each other's awareness.

Miss Swann was not helping his mood any, either, what with her babbling about his past exploits and demanding he find a way to get them off of the damned island. But he needed rum for that and thankfully this was an island used by rum smugglers and there was plenty in supply. Now if only the girl would just shut up.

"How did you get off the last time?"

Jack sighed and turns to face her, a bottle of rum in hand. It will have to do for sustenance for now until he can maybe find them something later. "Last time, I was here a grand total of three days. Last time, the rumrunners who used this island as a cache came by, and I bartered passage off. But from the looks of this, they've long been'out of business, and so that won't be happening again. We probably have your friend Norrington to thank for that."

Elizabeth stares at him in disbelief."So that's it? That's the secret grand adventure of the infamous Jack Sparrow? You spent three days on the beach drinking rum?" When he shrugged, she glared and tipped her head back defiantly. "I don't believe you."

Jack had to snort at that. "And why not?"

"Because I've seen you, I've seen your wings! You're a Curatrix!" She stomped up until they were face to face, snatching the rum bottle out of his hand. The pirate watched her in interest and open disbelief at what she was doing. Brave lass, although very naive. Din't she knew that there were certain types of pirates, so unlike Jack, that would have long since started treating her like ... Well, Jack hated even thinking about it so he didn't finish that thought. "With wings as massive as yours, you could probably take us all the way back to Jamaica in record time."

Sparrow snorted again. "Aye, Miss Swann, if I were half my own weight and didn't carry you at all, I could probably make the journey." When she went to protest, he gave her 'the hand'. She shut her mouth like a child told to shut up. "But seeing as that's not the case, we'd not make it further than two to three miles out before my wings got tired. Now, last time I was here, it was mating season for sea turtles so I charmed a pair, strapped them to my feet and traveled a good three miles out at sea before taking flight. Still took me a good five hours before I met the rumrunners. I only know they use this place for storing rum because I found this," he pointed to the secret underground room that he had opened up. "Before I started waiting for the sea turtles to come by. It was the only sustenance I found and it kept me going for three days and three nights. I was weak and exhausted when I finally landed on their ship and the only reason they didn't leave me to die is because of old folk believes that if you kill or cause the death of a Curatrix on a ship, you're cursed forever with bad luck."

"Oh." Was all the woman could say, a little stunned by his speech. Jack just shook his head at her and took out another bottle of rum, heading back towards the beach.

"Get some rest, Miss Swann. It will be dark soon and we'll have a long day ahead of us by tomorrow morning." He plopped himself down on the warm sand and uncorked the bottle, taking a long swing to fill the void in his heart from once again letting not only his item but also his Tutela slip through his fingers. Some great Curatrix _he_ was.

After a few moments of sitting alone in the slowly fading sun and the pleasant breeze, Elizabeth came and sat down not too far away from him, taking what must have been her very first taste of pure, unwatered-down rum. Jack didn't say anything when she started coughing at the burn and let her deal with it herself. The rum was rich on those ... sugars or whatever and it will give their body some energy until they find something better or find a way to get off of this bloody island.

"Jack?"

"Hm?" He said as he took a long gulp of his rum again, surprised she wanted to talk to him so soon after his rather rude outburst earlier. She probably wasn't used to being spoken to in those tones and he could be a bit sarcastic and condescending when he put his mind to it. He shouldn't have snapped at the lass like that.

"Are you my Curatrix?"

Sparrow promptly choked on his drink and nearly spat it out. He coughed for a while, well aware of her brown, innocent (mostly) eyes watching him intently. He banged his chest a few times with his fist before turning to look at her incredulously. "Whatever brought that up? And where did you get that bloody idea?"

She shrugged, a little sheepish. "Well, you kind of did risk your life and freedom by jumping in to save me and you're also here, helping Will rescue me. I just though ... Never mind."

"I'm not angry nor do I think less of you for wondering, Lizzie." He told her gently, carefully, not wanting to upset her anymore than she probably already was. She had been suffocated by a corset, nearly drowned, was saved by a pirate then was threatened by that same pirate moments later, was kidnapped by other pirates, was scared out of her mind by said pirates, was nearly sacrificed by those pirates, was saved by another group of pirates, was captured by the bad pirates again and was now marooned by those same pirates with a pirate on some godforsaken spit of land. She must really hate pirates by now. Yet she still watched him in wonder, looking to him for a plan of escape. He'll have to make sure he doesn't disappoint her. Hopefully the rum will help. "But you're gonna have to realize that Tutela are a very important, sensitive and personal matter for a Curatrix. I'm surprised you even know our proper name. Dear Will certainly didn't."

Elizabeth smiled weakly at him. He did not like how shaky it was. Dear gods, please don't let her cry! Jack didn't know how to handle crying people! He himself had cried only once in his memory and it had been the first time his Grandmama had nearly beat him to death!

"James, Commodore Norrington," she corrected herself for his sake, thinking he didn't know his own Tutela. Not that she _knew_ he was his Tutela. He very carefully did not react to the name. "He used to tell me about them on our voyage to Jamaica from London. He met his, you know? When they were kids. But they had to part ways and they haven't met since. He never told me much about them other than that they had the prettiest wings he'd ever seen. And some of the biggest, for a kid." She cocked her heat at him then, studying what she can see of his back without tilting back to look directly at it. "You also have really big wings, Jack. May I inquire how long their span is?"

Jack hesitated for a long moment before figuring it couldn't be that bad to answer. It's not like she can do anything to blackmail him with such information. "A little over seventeen feet when I fully stretch them." He laughed hollowly at the gawking expression on the woman's face. Ah, he remembered the last time someone had been so interested in his wings. It hadn't ended well, for anyone involved. "Impressive, I know."

"But doesn't that make you an extremely powerful Curatrix?" Elizabeth asked, intrigued, but Jack only shrugged. He had once made the mistake of showing off some of what he can do and it had ended with him receiving the brand he now bore on his wrist. He will never again tell anyone just what he can do. He was reluctant about ever telling _Jamie_ what he can do and he was his Tutela. Well, one person knew but she wouldn't betray him. They were too good a friends.

They sat like that on the beach, drinking and talking, Jack doing most of the former and Elizabeth trying to get him to do more of the latter until night fell and Jack started a fire. The rum having inebriated him a little, he started singing random songs and shanties, much to Elizabeth's amusement. Not that she didn't join in soon enough. Before they knew it, they were laughing and singing at the top of their lungs while dancing around a decent bonfire.

"Yo ho, yo ho, it's a pirates life for me!" They sang together, arms locked and spinning around each other before letting go and each going on their own way around the fire. "I _love_ this song!" He giggled and fell on his bum, as drunk as he ever lets himself get - smashed but not smashed enough that he loses all of his inhibitions, awareness or memories the next morning. He turned to Elizabeth as she sat close to him, as though seeking warmth and protection on a deserted island with a fire mere feet away, but Jack didn't care at the moment. She was smiling and he was smiling and there was rum and a listening ear and he wanted to talk. Talk, talk and talk. Get it all off of his chest, so to say. "When I get the Pearl back, I,'going to teach it to the crew and we're going to sing it all the time!" He gesticulated excitedly, already hearing how his lady love would giggle and hum the song with them. She would no doubt love it.

"And you'll be positively the most fearsome pirates to sail the Spanish Main!" Well, if that didn't sober Jack up in an instant, although he didn't show it. Ah, he knew what the lass was playing at. Clever, that, except Jack was a Curotrix and when someone else's gem was so close to him he could sense some of their intentions beneath whatever façade they wear.

"I don't care about being fearsome, Lizzie." He told her seriously, facing her with a straight face, not a trace of his earlier humor. "If I wanted that, I'd just stick to my role in pirate society, at my Da's side, not having gallivanted off to make a name for meself. I only care for freedom. And that's what a ship is, you know? Wherever we want to go, we go. That's what a ship is. Not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails. That's what a ship need ... But what a ship is ... What the Black Pearl _really_ is ..." He looked out at the dark sea, almost invisible from the sky if not for the moonlight and the feeble lighting of their fire. He could just imagine his beloved ship sailing these waters peacefully, unchallenged by sea or wind. "Is _freedom_." How fitting, that. Could not have been more fitting if the gods had tried, he thought with a small smile.

Elizbeth must have been stunned by his answer, by the depth of his devotion to a mere ship and how much depth he himself had. Jack wouldn't be surprised if she had thought him just a charlatan or a vain pirate like so many others. Jack may come from a pirate family, but he had tasted things on the other side of the scale as well. He knew for sure that a pirate's life is really for him.

"That ship really means a lot to you, Jack. It must be terrible for you to be stuck on this island again." She commented, leaning against his shoulder. Ah, the Missy was either continuing her game and underestimating him - he'd be right offended at that - or she was tired and seeking comfort. Figuring it couldn't hurt, Jack unfurled his wings and let one drape over her shoulder. She nearly purred in pleasure and Jack chuckled.

"Well, the company's better, that for sure." She giggled at that, not noticing how he had become stiff. "Lizzie, you are the Governor's daughter, yes?" She looked up at him with a confused frown but nodded. "And you're on good terms, I hope? Love each other like family should?"

"Yes, of course." She sat up a little but did not leave his side or the warmth of his wings. She looked tempted to nuzzle them. Jack wouldn't begrudge her as he knew his feathers were really soft. He used to use them to cover himself at night. Better than any old blanket if you ask him. Her frown turned suspicious. "Why?"

"And the good Commodore?" He ignored her question and insisted.

"A close friend, although he has asked for my hand in marriage. I have no doubt that's more my father's pressing than his own desire. Yes, he may like me somewhat in that way, but he's too stuck on his guardian to really consider love out of marriage. Still a friend." She crossed her arms and glared. "What's this about, Jack?"

"I think we may have come upon the same idea, luv." He told her with a golden grin. She blinked before looking away sheepishly but Jack just drew her back into her previous position. "As much as it pains me - and that's why you will have to do it, luv. If I did, I'd cry - we will have to burn the rum. I'll use me wings to make the smoke go higher. If those two really care about you as much as you say you do," he did not let himself cheer, externally or internally, at the thought that James might still be thinking about him. "Which I have no doubt they do,'' he reassured her at the offended look she gave him. "Then they must be looking for you. Someone is bound to see it as a distress signal or a sign of trouble and those Navy boys can't help but check it out. As soon as we see white sails, we'll be off. I can carry you that far away, you're a bit skinny.''

She huffed. "Says you!" But her eyes were laughing and hopeful and Jack couldn't help but feel hopeful as well. He could save Bootstrap's kid _and_ get his ship back.

"We'll need to do some persuading, no doubt. They'll just want to get you back to where's safe and they'll probably be tempted to hang me from the yardarm, so we need to be careful what we say." Elizabeth looked a bit worried at that but Jack just winked at her. "Don't you worry your little head, luv." He chuckled, looking out at the water again and sending a wave of reassurance and promises to his beloved Pearl. He'll be coming for her soon enough. "You're with _Captain_ Jack Sparrow."

"And that's all that we need." She said, recalling how Gibbs had been willing to follow her and Will's lead, despite them having no experience on a ship whatsoever besides as passengers just because they were daft like Jack. She raised her bottle of rum in a toast. "To freedom."

Lack clinked his bottle to hers with a smile that edged a little to predatory. "To the Black Pearl." They drank a bit more and finally set aside the rum, falling into a dreamless sleep and waking at dawn. Without much hesitation, they started piling up barrels of rum against the closest palm trees and Jack looked away as Elizabeth threw the leftovers of their fire before forcing himself to fan the flames. The fire quickly caught on all the rum and Jack winced at a few little explosions but he could have nearly kissed Elizabeth when she gave him a salvaged bottle just for him with a knowing smile. Ah, yes, he definitely loved these new young friends he'd made from Port Royal. When the fire was going steady and black smoke was rising towards the heavens, Jack started pushing the flames upwards. Within the hour, they spotted a big, English galleon that Elizabeth ventured a guess must be the Dauntless and Jack, having briefly commandeered the ship knew she was guessing right. "You ready, Lizzie?"

"I've never flied before," she said nervously, admitting her fear only in those words but Jack didn't tease her about it, instead letting his wings unfurl to their full span of seventeen feet and three inches.

"Oh, it's the best feeling in the world, luv, especially over the sea." He told her with a reassuring but excited grin. She did her best to return it with a trusting smile and Jack came behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She, scared, turned around to face him, wrapping her own arms around his neck, stubbornly daring him to refuse her. He just shrugged and did a few warm up flaps. "Hold on, lass. You're in for a ride of your life."

Without further ado, he started beating his wings, raising some sand before he took two leaping steps and gathered the girl in his arms for a bride carry, jumping off of the sand and taking to the sky with a free whoop of joy to wake up Elizabeth's adventurous side.

He laughed at her yelp and shot like a bullet through the skies towards HMS Dauntless.


	5. Chapter 5

Elizabeth couldn't believe it! She was flying! How many people could say they've flown like a bird without actually possessing wings like guardians do? She ventured a guess that only rare few got to experience this. Especially since guardians so rarely had this big or strong wings! Jack could carry her like this for miles! He had admitted so himself! Not far enough for them to reach shore but more than far enough to reach the approaching Dauntless and a few more miles past that. It was exhilarating, feeling the wind in her face and watching the ocean bellow. She laughed at the seagulls that flew alongside them and the smaller birds that eyed Jack inquisitively.

"This is amazing!" Why had the gods only gifted birds, Curatrix and angels with wings? It was so much fun! Why had she been scared? She didn't want to come down, ever!

"This is freedom!" Jack told her with a mad grin when she looked up at him. "Nothing like it, eh, luv?" She just nodded and wondered what her father's reaction will be to seeing her come in the arms of a pirate Curatrix who had supposedly threatened her. She still remembered how he had whispered he meant her no harm and how she had believed him. She had glimpsed his wings when he had jumped in after her, you know. His black wings were beautiful for all that they were only black as opposed to some of the wings James had seen and described to her. They were still amazing, catching and absorbing the light and warmth of the sun and they suited him. Especially if the Black Pearl was his ship. They matched. "Hold on tight, luv. We're landing!"

The warning came just in time as he suddenly dived and Elizabeth buried her face in his chest to protect her face from the harsh wind. He did a small circle around the Dauntless before landing on the poop deck on sure, steady legs that immediately adjusted to the swaying of the ship. He remained unbothered by the shouting and the musket and sword pointing as he grinned down at the flushed lady in his arms. She broke out into laughter and kissed his cheek before he set her down.

"You have to promise me we'll do that again!"

"Elizabeth!" The girl looked up immediately and cried out for her father as soon as she saw him, running into his arms. Jack remained with his wings half folded to his body, a perfect position for him to take off immediately if they decide to do anything stupid, like trying to hang or shoot or run him through. He was the fastest flier in the air so he can match his ship being the fastest in the waters. "Oh, thank goodness you're okay! We thought you dead!"

"I'm fine. All thanks to Will and Captain Sparrow over there." The lass replied to her fretting father as the Commodore walked up to the two to express his own worry, even though his eyes were glued on Sparrow. Stripped of his effects, except for his ever trusted, ever present Compass, Jack didn't look so much a legend as he looked a mere human and yet the wings at his back separated him from everyone else successfully enough. No, it wasn't even the wings. It was his mere presence. He was larger than life, even completely still as he was. James wasn't sure why he thought his wings should not be black but a different color.

"Is that so?" He asked in a drawl, aware he in turn was being watched just as intently.

"James!" Elizabeth distracted him from further pirate-observing as she came to stand beside him. "Will! He's in danger! We have to go find him and save him! Barbossa wants to sacrifice him for some heathen ritual or something!"

"Barbossa?"

"The current captain of the Black Pearl." She elaborated, a little annoyance seeping into her voice. "They headed for Isla de Muerta yesterday afternoon. We need to hurry if we want to catch up with them!"

"Isla de Muerta is but a myth." Huffed Gillette from nearby and he and Miss Swann shared a brief glaring contest.

"I've been there myself, I think I know it's a little more than myth, sir." She said defiantly before turning to James. "Just ask Jack for directions! He knows where it is!"

"Does he now? And let me guess, mermaids told him?"

"Oy! Don't go badmouthing mermaids, lad! They're right vicious when they want to be." Jack called from where he stood with his arms crossed over his chest, wings still on display. They would stop bullets if he willed his feathers to become strong as steel. Yes, he can do that. His wings were big for a reason. Elizabeth was right about one things. He was rather powerful. He wasn't even sure of his own limits, as he rarely used his Curatrix powers. "Except with me, but I'm more like them than I am like you, so they like me. As well as the fact that I am rather charming."

"Does the island really exist?" Lieutenant Groves questioned, ignoring his friend's snort. Jack smiled at the curious lad.

"Of course."

"And you can find it?" Norrington asked skeptically with an arched eyebrow. Jack tucked in his wings and did a little bow.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. There's not a person alive who knows these waters better than me." _'Or any other, but you don't need to know about that.'_ He straightened up and smiled charmingly at his Tutela.

"And island that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is ... " Norrington mused to himself. The description fit to something the crazy pirate might get himself tangled into, if even one of his stories were true. And James _knew_ that at least one _was_. One word: Nassau. He had an old friend stationed there and had letters from the man himself that stated Jack Sparrow had indeed sacked the place without firing a single shot, without spilling a single drop of blood. And Nassau was a well fortified fortress, well manned. "Very well, Mr Sparrow-"

" _Captain_ , if you please," Jack interrupted with a challenging grin and Norrington had to smirk at him.

"Captain Sparrow, then. Please do follow Mr Murtogg and Mr Mullroy to the helm. You will be giving us a heading. If your information pegs out, we might consider lessening your punishment."

"Commodore!" Gillette protested immediately and even the Governor looked uneasy by such a promise. If it had come from any other man than James, they would have known it were just empty words but James never said something without meaning it. Even Jack looked stunned by it while Elizabeth was beaming at him.

"We cannot in good conscience hang a Curatrix without getting the okay from the Admiralty and the Crown, Governor. They have become too rare in the last few years. And Captain Sparrow has an impressive pair of wings. I am sure they will be most interested to meet him." Was the only explanation he gave, turning away so he wouldn't see the look of disgust Sparrow was giving him at that. Those black eyes reminded him too much of his own Curatrix and James didn't want to think what might be going through Sparrow's thought at the moment. If he were indeed to hand him over to the Crown, they would use him for experimentation and breeding of more Curatrix.

For all that one was born for every fiftieth human, one did not _live_ for every fiftieth human.

Not to mention that there had been ... witch hunts, yes, even for half heavenly creatures like Curatrix. They had refused to bow to the Church and spread their power and for that they were declared creatures of sin, sons and daughters of demons who had forced intercourse on angels. Just last century, there had been a threat of extinction of the Curatrix kind, since humans had managed to kill over a half of them. Thankfully, some people had gotten some of their senses back and had stopped further so called witch hunts but it came at the expense of Curatrix once more. Every Curatrix must be recorded in official documents but more often than not, they were also forced into these research projects, becoming test subjects for enhanced strength and health, longevity and even flight. James had heard of one mad man even killing a Curatrix to the very core of their being by cutting off his wings and sowing them into his own back in a mad attempt to achieve flight. He had died when he had foolishly jumped off of a cliff in order to test his experiment. No one mourned him.

But it wasn't as though James would actually let any Curatrix face that. He would never be able to face his own if he did. He just needed to stall. He also couldn't kill a Curatrix, despite having sentenced Sparrow to hang just days earlier. He had expected some type of mad escape. Curatrix were made so men can't cage them for long.

Something tells him Sparrow did not expect him to think like that and was greatly offended and maybe even disgusted by him now. James tried not to think of that black stare on him as he walked towards his cabin or the protests that could be heard from Elizabeth. She obviously knew what being handed over to the Crown meant as well. If he had had even the faintest chances of winning her favor over young William Turner, it had just fallen into the water and was swallowed by Davy Jones Locker.

"Please, you can't do that!" The young woman in question ran up to him again, tugging boldly at his sleeve and making him turn around. "Please, Commodore, reconsider! As a wedding gift!"

James stared at her wide eyed at her words, looking into her desperate face. It would seem she had grown fond of the silly pirate. Not all that hard, where a guardian was concerned, but not all guardians had such persuasive and charming abilities. His men were fairly gawking at them. Hell, Sparrow was gaping! Though, Governor Swann seemed delighted.

"Elizabeth! Does this mean you're accepting the Commodore's proposal?"

There were tears in the young lady's eyes as she tried to smile and opened her mouth to answer when Jack Sparrow appeared between them, as though having teleported. The man sure did know how to use an opportune moment. While everyone was busy gawking, he had snook up on the two and was now giving Elizabeth a stern frown, like a chiding parent to a naughty child.

"Now, Lizzie, don't go doin' that. Sure, the Commodore's more than a fine catch." There was even more gawking going on when Sparrow gave Norrington a brief once over. James was sure he had even blushed. "But you don't need to go and sell out your heart on me behalf. Trust me, luv, I can more than handle myself." He threw in a wink for good measure and a smile but Elizabeth still looked uncertain, glancing between pirate and pirate hunter.

"But ... What if?"She stopped when he placed a finger to her lips to shush her.

"Luv, I've survived far worse than a pirate hunter. Trust me. You'll want to still be in the market after we get the whelp back and I'm sure the good Commodore understands. Right, mate?" The smile he sent said man's way was a lot sharper and more challenging than it had been earlier. "Love and all. Rare it is, these days, because of society's stupid views on what's proper and what's not. Since when has love been _improper_? When we all die, won't we all be equal before Him at our judgment hour? Never understood all this social class nonsense. No one's born in silk and with a crown on their head, nor were they born with a saddle on their back and slave marks on their skin. _Whoever denies another love will never find it for himself_ , went a saying from me Mum's people. I rather like that philosophy. Hits the mark, don't you think, Commodore?"

Norrington gave a wry smirk. "Quite. You are a far more educated man than your appearances and career choice suggest, Captain."

Jack snorted. "You've no idea what me career actually is, Commodore, and be grateful fer that. We'd have a lot more problems on our hands."

Norrington nodded to that, not sure what to think but letting it go for now. "Very well. We can discuss it all later, after we have saved young Turner and gotten rid of Captain Barbossa. I have enough charges against him to hang him three times."

"Excellent!" Sparrow cheered, even going as far as to clap his hands like a child, swirling around on his feet and heading unerringly towards the helm, Mullroy and Murtogg hurrying after him with a glare from Gillette. Norrington just shook his head at them all, not believing he was letting this craziness happen. He returned to his earlier route towards his cabin when he realized Elizabeth had somehow miraculously kept a firm grip on his sleeve.

"Miss Swann?" He asked in confusion, turning to face the young woman who was bitting her lip nervously.

"I'm sorry," she said in a rush but sincerity dripped in every word, startling the Commodore further. "I'm so sorry. You're a great man, James, and I don't wish to bring you pain or shame by rejecting you-"

"Ah," he breathed, stopping her further babbling with a small smile. "That. No need to worry, Miss Swann. I do not begrudge you giving your heart to another. I _would_ be mad with you if you promised _me_ something you could not give, as Mr Turner already is in possession of it. Your affections and your heart. However, I _will_ try to steal you away from him if he does not treat you well." She giggled at the amused twinkle in his eyes. "I wish you the best of luck, my dear."

"I'm glad you're not angry, James. And you really need to stop all that 'Miss Swann' business. We've been friends for years now." Elizabeth swatted his arm, her eyes just as playful.

The good Commodore just chuckled, his eyes inveterately and inexplicably moving to where Sparrow was looking like he belonged at the helm, steering the mighty Dauntless onto the right course. "I could not very well be angry with you when I am in much the same position as you, Elizabeth. Only my condition has been like this for the better part of my life. It is not uncommon for a Tutela to fall in love with their Curatrix. But to _feel_ them constantly ... I don't know whether that's a thing of connection or strength or just a common thing." He shook his head, a wistful smile on his lips, eyes turning to Elizabeth. "I ask you for your hand in marriage when I myself would be most happy to leave myself only for my Curatrix. You see, my father married for political reasons, not out of love, and he had for reasons unknown to me broken his bond with his own Curatrix." Elizabeth gasped, whether because of what his father did or because he, too, was a Tutela like James. It was almost a common trait. If a Curatrix has a child and their Tutela has a child, the Curatrix's child, if also a Curatrix, is usually the charge's child's guardian. Like an inheriting trait. "He's been bitter about it for years and the last I saw of him, he would some nights drink himself into the ground and curse himself and his Curatrix. Curse all their lost opportunities. I would rather not chase my own Curatrix away and into the arms of someone else."

"I thought the pull was irresistible?" Elizabeth frowned in confusion, looking over to Jack and wondering whether she should ask him. But she then remembered him chiding her for asking about Tutela when it's such a sensitive topic. Had he even met his? And he had never denied being _her_ Curatrix ... How very strange.

"To me, it was, when we met. I don't think it was much different for my father but, you see, he was an Admiral and a pirate hunter, much like myself. And his Curatrix ... is a pirate." James hesitated, eyes once again straying to Sparrow. "A very well known pirate, infamous for his raids and his 'status' among pirates. I actually think the Admiralty forced him to break their bond. I don't know if they've ever really fond out but that's my theory. Why else would he, years later, still be so hung up on his guardian? Why else would he break their bond when he knew who was his soulmate?"

"I never knew it could all be so difficult." She looked up at him and saw him eying Jack rather strangely. When she followed his gaze, she giggled at her fellow pirate-enthusiast (although much more secretive about it than her) Theodore listening aptly to whatever it was Jack was telling him with great gesticulations.

"I swear, it's like he's a mockery of both pirates and the Navy that try to catch him." James rubbed his forehead tiredly, excused himself to Elizabeth and resolutely _finally_ walked into his office. According to Sparrow, they will be at Isla De Muerta by nightfall and he needed a little time away from the eccentric man. _'It must be his Curatrix charms,'_ he tried to reassure himself as he thought of how very focused he was on Sparrow. _'It's because he's a pirate and an enemy. Nothing more.'_

His black pearl kept persistently humming at his neck.


	6. Chapter 6

The atmosphere at and around Isla de Muerta was a true definition of creepy. The eery silence, the thick fog, the numerous dangerous and deadly rocks all around, the stench, the shipwrecks of foolish sailors ... It was right unnerving and reminded of a scene right out of those pirate stories Elizabeth liked to read about. A perfect setting for a battle like this. Almost too perfect. Norrington didn't like this place one bit and neither did his men, the chill in the air seeping all the way through, into their weary bones.

Jack, on the other hand, looked perfectly unbothered by the atmosphere. His earthly senses might have been as dulled by the fog and the silence as the Navy men's, but his ethereal senses were, in turn, on full alert and he could, once again, feel every single thread of the supernatural powers around them so clearly that had he been a weaker Curatrix, it would have been overwhelming. As it was, he focused more on soothing the men in the boats with him than on how the magic of the place called to him, caressing his senses, trying to seduce him into the waters. He was a Curatrix. A siren's song or a mermaid's melody could not reach his heart and charm it for it already belonged to another. But the call of the sea was much more persistent, although here it was haunting and dark, promising him things he wanted to have nothing to do with. Interestingly enough, his Tutela seemed to be hearing some of it, too, for his grip on his sword would occasionally tighten to ground himself. A fine item, that one.

The very extension of one's soul in physical form, that's what a person's item really was. They could be all shapes and sizes, although the biggest ones are usually only as big as a Scottish claymore. They could be smaller than a needle, in turn, but they were _always_ precisely symbolic, completely different for each person. Unlike with the gem, the item is not something a person is born in possession of. They must find it in this great big world and _that_ is, at times, harder to do than finding your Curatrix or Tutela. Funnily enough, you are _fated_ to find it, despite it actually being _harder_. Ironic, is what it is, Jack mused. His own item was ... a lot bigger than James'. The sword perfectly represented all that James was and what he stood for but Jack could not so easily be defined. He was an oddity amongst his own kind, as a Curatrix, as a living being with a soul and as a pirate. His wings were almost twice as big as the largest recorded wing span. His _gem_ was not a gem at all, but a pearl and a black one, at that. And he definitely didn't fit your typical definition of a pirate. You could not define Jack Sparrow - _Captain!_ \- with the standard categories no matter how much you tried.

 _'I wonder what people would do to me if they ever found out what my item is?'_ He mused as the rowboats all finally came to a stop, the men tense and nervously fingering their muskets. "What now?" He asks, irritated, pushing through until he was right next to Norrington.

"I don't like this situation, Mr Sp-" he sighs and corrects himself when Jack went to interrupt. " _Captain_ Sparrow." He ignored the cheery little grin Jack gave him for that, as well as how close the older male was. "That island seems to be riddled with caves we don't know the layout of while _they_ do. I will not have my men put at such a disadvantage."

Jack looked at him curiously. "Funny, I was just thinking the same thing." He said, eying him, inspecting. "How about you let me go in alone and while you're setting out an ambush out here, I trick the pirates out to you, savvy? Prepare your lovely Dauntless an' her guns? Those cannons are bound to make quite a bit of damage, I wager."

Now it was James who was eying _him_ curiously, although Jack also noted the beginnings of suspicion forming and prayed to whatever gods had created them all and were watching over them now that that suspicion will not win over in the end. People always have to question and mess up his plans and it always ends for the worse for everyone involved! Just look at Will! Had he listened to him from the start, he wouldn't have ended up being a sacrificial lamb and quite literally, for he will be cut open by the cruel pirates because he was only 'half Turner'. They could have walked in, fetched Elizabeth, shot Hector and raced the swarm of angry pirates to the oar-less rowboats. They could have divided the crew between the Interceptor and the Black Pearl, Annamaria taking her new boat while Jack escorted the happy, sappy couple back to as close to Port Royal as he dared. Will would have been hailed a hero and Jack would have his precious ship back while his treacherous crew killed each other for survival or whatever. And they would have all been happy if only Will had not decided to interfere!

"You would do that?" The taller of the two asked, surprised, curious and suspicious but apparently unexpectedly willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Jack tried to smile sweetly at him but it ended up sharp and bitter.

"They left me stranded. Twice." James winced at that, knowing some traditions amongst pirates, like marooning. Left to die on a stranded island with only one shot to either quickly end your misery or to slowly starve to death. He had, unfortunately, come across too many of both decisions while in His Majesty's Royal Navy, on regular patrols or escorting merchant vessels and not just in the Caribbean. Neither was a pretty sight. "What have you got to lose?" Norrington looked at Sparrow at that. What, indeed? A Curatrix was more likely to survive such odds, especially one as bound to be powerful as Jack was, what with his wing span. Yet he found himself hesitating. Half angel in blood and origin or not, Curatrix were still as mortal as humans were. Sparrow could die just as easily as succeed in this venture. And for all that he was a pirate, he seemed to be a good man as well.

But James could not think like that. His _men_ were good men, too, and one good man verses a bunch of them was not so big a price to pay, even though Norrington hated weighting lives like this. A brush of reassurance from the other side of that connection linked to his soul gave him strength to utter words he did not entirely mean. "Nothing I wouldn't be pleased to be rid of." And yet he did not wish Sparrow's death, either. So frustrating!

But Jack just grinned, feeling all that was going on in his Tutela's emotions and was quite happy to have earned some sort of respect from him even though he was a pirate. Who knows? Maybe they had a chance after all? "I knew you'd listen to reason!" He chirped and stood up gracefully, not at all unbalanced by the rocking of the small boat or bothered by the glares the men there gave him. He just grinned at his charge and spread his wings, enjoying the gawking as they easily covered the entire boat and reached to the two closest ones on either side. "Ta!" Elegantly and without disturbing the boat much more, Jack took off with ease, going just high enough to avoid the others' heads before coming to fly as close to the water as he can for stealth reasons. If there was a watch, they'll see him if he's flying any higher and if he goes too high, he won't be able to properly fly into the cave.

It wasn't a long flight and for once, Jack was glad. The mist was as magical as everything else in this cursed place and he could not help but thank his - somewhat - lucky stars that he had never made it this far in his search for Cortez's treasure. Sure, he would have known on sight that it was cursed, before anyone could take it, and he would have probably warned the others to take anything else in the cave other than the Aztec gold - whether they would have listened to him or not was a different matter - and this whole sorry mess could have been avoided. Or at the very least postponed but that wouldn't have been much of an improvement, either. He stopped thinking about what ifs when he flew into the cave and did his best to maneuver through it. Despite the sheer size of his wings, Jack was _very_ maneuverable and flexible, a result of _years_ of crazy adventures and madder escapes, so he was able to make it to the land part of the cave with little difficulty. He already knew the way, not that the pirates were keeping exceptionally quiet or anything. After all, they had nothing to fear, even when they turned mortal, for they had left to die the last person to know the location of Isla de Muerta. Or so they thought.

"What was begun by blood, let blood now end!"

That was his cue. "Excuse me, excuse me. Pardon me. Coming through." He boldly made his way through his traitorous crew, secretly enjoying their flabbergasted expressions as he pushed his way through and he looked on in glee when Ragetti's wooden eye fell out of his socket and Hector looked like he had seen a ghost. Will looked right glad to see him. Good lad.

"Impossible," the older captain breathed and Jack just grinned at him pleasantly. As if. He thought they had been through this. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, marvelous, amazing and one and only. The gods have bestowed favor on him. Or at least Ladies Fate and Fortune have.

" _Improbable_ ," he corrected and pouted when the bos'n grabbed a hold of him, preventing him from getting any closer. He looked from Will, to the dagger at his throat and to the man holding the dagger there. Today was the day he would make sure his treacherous first mate regretted ever stabbing in the back Captain Jack Sparrow. "I wouldn't be doing that, mate." He warned halfheartedly, knowing how to push Hector's buttons like no other.

"No, I really think I do," Barbossa sneered and prepared to go on but Jack just shrugged, looked away, holding his hands clasped in front of him. He was well aware the crew was watching them. Please. This took no effort on his part at all. This lot was so stupid it was _embarrassing_ how easy it was to manipulate them and even more embarrassing that they had mutinied against him.

"Your funeral." There were murmurs behind his back now and Jack did his best not to smirk. Who needed Curatrix powers when you had a sharp tongue? Not Jack, that's for sure.

Barbossa hesitated before rolling his eyes, taking away the knife from Will's vulnerable throat. "And why don't I want to do that?"

Jack really, _really_ hopes Norrington's suspicion hadn't won out. He and his men really _would_ have been best off on the Dauntless, preparing the cannons. "Because, right about now, the HMS Dauntless is lying in wait just outside." Murmurs turned into shouts of panic and outrage. Too easy. "And its gun and crew will cut you lot to pieces the second you venture outside of this cave."

"And why should we believe you?" The other captain was wisely weary of anything he said, knowing Jack very much hated his guts. Jack just shrugs, knowing his nonchalance will speak well enough for himself that he didn't care either way and that, more than anything, will unnerve the men enough to be reckless. Barbossa looks around the crew that had so easily joined in on his mutiny and realized he was in a right pickle, so to say. "What're you suggestin'?"

Jack just barely manages not to smirk. He shrugs to bos'n's hand off of his shoulder and walks closer to the 'main event' eying Barbossa, young Turner - he looks both angry and suspicious - and the chest of cursed gold, hands fluttering about. "Simple. Don't kill the boy. Not yet, at least. You lot can just go out in boats, attack the Dauntless all sneaky like and take the ship. A might lass, that one is. You'll have the makings of your own fleet. Commodore."

Will watched as Barbossa's eyes took on this creepy, wicked, ambitious and greedy gleam while the men muttered about them. "And let me guess. You don't want me to kill the whelp in return?"

"Oh no, no. By all means, kill the whelp. Gave me quite a wallop, that one." For effect, he glared at Will. "Just wait to do it at the _opportune moment_." Ah, he understood! Good lad. "Like after you've killed," he said as he ran his fingers over the golden coins, taking a precise handful of five coins and dropping them back in one at a time with each word. "Every." Chink. "Last." Chink. "One." Chink. "Of Norrington's men." He did a well practiced slight of hand on the last piece, making it seemingly disappear. Will's eyes widened even more.

"You planned this from the start! From the moment you knew my name!" He accused with enough theatric effect that Jack was proud. Sparrow, though, just smiled at him.

"Pretty much."

"And what of the Pearl, Jack?" Barbossa questioned, already taken by the idea. Barbossa knew real well that Jack was a proud one and to be called Commodore by _him_ ... It was too much of an ego boost, especially considering their history.

"When you take the Dauntless - which, let's face it, mate, you lot will have no trouble doing," the crew preened under the compliment and Jack closed his eyes in a slightly longer blink in order to suppress an eye roll. "You'll obviously be takin' the bigger, better ship," he cringed internally and hoped the Pearl will forgive him his transgressions, even if it was a lie he told in order to actually get her back. "More guns. And if you make me Captain of the Black Pearl, I will sail under your flag and give you 10% of me plunder and _you_ , my dear cursed friend, get to introduce yourself as Commodore Barbossa, as we discussed. Not to mention the fame that would come from ending the Pirate Hunter Norrington." He actually had to reach out to said man over their soul link in order to stop himself from showing a reaction to that one. He was a bit surprised at the comfort his Tutela tried to give back, although that was impossible, as only a Curatrix can manipulate the bond in such a manner.

He could see that Barbossa was tempted. Greed won out. "Fifty percent!"

"Twelve." He countered.

"Twenty!"

"Fifteen." When he saw Barbossa about to argue, Jack actually let the tiniest bit of the charm his angelic side gifted him with to seep out. He hated using it because it felt a lot like suppressing a human's free will and Jack was all about freedom. But this was necessary if any of them want to survive. "I'll buy you a new hat. A really big one." He smiled benignly. "Commodore."

He could see it in Hector's eyes when he won long before the man's almost clawed hand - he _really_ needed to cut his nails - reached for his to shake. "We 'ave an accord, Jack. Men," he turned to the gathered pirates, who were watching all of this in excitement - they knew with Jack, they had the luck of the gods (or the devil, however you feel inclined) on their side and they knew _he_ knew of a lot more treasure than Barbossa and could actually _find_ it due to his Compass so they already felt invincible. It was why they had first come to serve under him, a Curatrix to offer them protection. Yet only Bootstrap and Barbossa had been taken under his wing and Jack hated Hector for taking away both. "Take a walk."

"Walk?" That gave Jack pause, his expression faltering. Of course, a sneak attack from underwater by the undead and cursed. Cowards. Well played, Hector. He must have gotten suspicious of Jack's want to help them. He dearly hoped James will be alright because he wasn't sure he could fly out fast enough to save him if all went to hell.

00000

Elizabeth glared at the retreating black ship and the pirates that were crewing her. She had snook out of the Dauntless, made her way to the Black Pearl, faced that damned undead shrieking monkey and freed Jack's new crew, only for them to _refuse_ to help her rescue Will and their Captain! They hadn't even given her any weapons! Just left! Cowards. And they defended themselves by saying it was according to the Code! Elizabeth will have to take a better look at that. Or ask Jack about it. If they survive.

Bloody pirates.

She just hoped she won't be too late.

00000

James felt cold, a chill going down to his very bones when he heard a small, almost inaudible _crack_ from right beneath his chin. He had nearly torn off his cravat to look at his gem and his heart stopped at the sight of the cracked black pearl. He had never heard of that happening before. A gem is only damaged when the bond between the Curatrix and their Tutela is somehow endangered, usually by impending death. If one of the pair dies, the other's gem breaks and turns into cosmic dust, drifting in the wind for the world to reclaim so it can give it back when they are reborn again in a different life. The dead half's gem goes to the surviving one and they hold on to it until their own death.

But he had never heard of a gem cracking and remaining not with this ... unholy feeling accompanying it. He could scarcely breathe, no air in his lungs and his eyes were misty. Was Jack ... Was he _dying_? Was that why he had reached out for comfort instead of offering it like was the usual? He was dying somewhere and James could do _nothing_? He could not even offer him comfort!

"Sir, are you alright?" He just barely heard Mr Mullroy asked over the rushing in his ears as his heart seized in panic and his soul started mourning. He looked away from the cracked black pearl in his hand, gaze moving towards the water, which was now washed with peaceful moonlight, the fog having miraculously cleared up as soon as Sparrow had taken flight, as if his wings had chased it away. With how powerful their beats were, it would not be surprising.

It was a good thing he looked, for he caught sight of something moving in the water, down bellow, as the water was not too deep here. There were two, three dozen shapes moving under them, towards the Dauntless and James' eyes widened.

"Sir?" Murtogg joined his friend in their concern when Norrington jerked back, as if burned. He quickly retied his cravat, haphazardly and not at all proper, but it now covered his cracked gem protectively as he turned to look at his men, his voice rising authoritatively.

"Return to the Dauntless! Immediately!" He barked when they hesitated and spared barely a thought for Sparrow and Turner. His own grief, too, can wait. He had men and a ship to protect.


	7. Chapter 7

A shot, loud and sharp, rang through the cave and Elizabeth flinched. When she felt no pain she looked up just as Barbossa looked down and saw a bullet hole through his own clothing over his chest before turning incredulous eyes to Jack. The Curatrix, in turn, had the most chilling expression on his face that any of the present had ever seen, on him or on anyone else, and it served to remind them all that this was a descendant of an angel and that their wrath was beyond human understanding. The black eyes held a cold fury to them that demanded justice above revenge and the black wings unfurled completed the image of an avenging guardian.

"You carry that pistol around for ten years just to end up wasting your shot?" Barbossa mocks with a sneer at the Curatrix, unnerved by the look in Jack's eyes. He had never been stared down like this by a being supposedly half divine in origin. He had always assumed he could use Jack's not so human side to manipulate him, just because Jack refused to use any of the power he was born with because it defied his views on freedom, yet now he was not so sure. Jack had survived two maroonings and had come chasing him right away. This was judgment day and Hector Barbossa was not sure how his verdict will sound.

"He didn't waste it." William Turner the Second called and Elizabeth and Barbossa looked up, over to the chest of cursed Aztec gold and saw that he had dropped the last two coins, bathed in his and Jack's blood, back into the stone chest. "This is for my father." The young man said with determination and not a small amount of anger.

Barbossa whipped around to face Sparrow again just as blood began to seep through the bullet hole in his chest. He smiled shakily, almost in relief, even as all strength left him. "I _feel_ ... cold." He fell forwards and Jack caught him, lowering him gently to the ground in a sign of respect for the first mate and friend he had been long ago, but holding no remorse even as he felt Barbossa's soul depart the world. He himself felt cold for it but restoring his own humanity after putting himself deliberately under the curse's influence was a relief. And so was the knowledge that it was finally over. He could finally be off with the Pearl and chase the horizon-

Except she was gone. She was gone. The Black Pearl ... "She's gone." He said in a wrecked whisper to his two new young friends. "My ship ... They left."

Will came over and put an arm around his shoulder companionably and Elizabeth took his injured hand in her own cut palm. "I'm sorry, Jack. I tried to get them to help but-"

"They followed the Code." He interrupted with a bitter little smile even as he wrapped both his new protectees with his wings. He needed the comfort almost as much as they did. This was their first pirating experience and it had only been cursed, undead, skeletal pirates but it was frightening all the same. They were so young ... When he was their age, he had long since seen the world and some of its scariest wonders. "They did right by them. I couldn't have asked for more." He sighs and then turns towards the entrance of the cave. "Lets go, whelps. It seems I have an appointment with the noose."

"But Jack!" Both youths immediately protest but he rises a hand to stop them. They reluctantly shut up as he heaves another deep, long sigh.

"I'd rather hang than let myself be experimented on. And the Commodore will be kind enough to let it happen without ever revealing Captain Jack Sparrow is a Curatrix."

"Surely your cooperation in this can save you from the noose!" Will protested. Jack was the last connection he had to his father, almost like some sort of cousin or uncle or, if Will were honest, an older brother that had gone out of his way to protect and aid him. He didn't want to lose him. Jack was probably the worst pirate ever because he was a good, kind man who kept his word - no matter how long it took for it to become clear he did. He was a friend! He didn't deserve to have this happen to him.

"The only salvation anyone can have from the noose is if they are a Curatrix and that salvation isn't exactly really a saving grace." Jack told Will, bopping his his head affectionately. Neither of the two citizens of Port Royal were exactly dry eyed as they let him led them towards the more open part of the cave before where the rowboats were moored. He looked at them, one after the other, before a grin split his face. "What say you we forgo the boats and instead I give you two a lift?"

"What? As in, flying?" Turner looked aghast while Elizabeth actually looked excited. "You must me joking, right?" He looked between them incredulously. "Please tell me you're not serious?"

Sparrow just winked at Swann. "I did promise you that we'd do it again." He grabbed hold of both of their upper arms. "Hang on." He took two steps, dragging them with himself before making the leaping step, taking flight with a whoop, Elizabeth's excited laughter and Will's panicked yelp.

00000

Even as his men tended to the wounded, rounded up the now no longer undead pirates and took them down to the brig or honored the fallen marines, all James Norrington could do was nervously finger his cravat, not daring to look at his black pearl again. He did not want to watch as it crumbled and disappeared, did not want to contemplate an existence without knowing that his Jack was somewhere out there.

And yet that dreadful cold feeling was gone. He did not feel that strange sort of emptiness that had nearly paralyzed him earlier. He felt _Jack_ on the other end of the bond and more than ever, he wished he cold reach out to him. To make matters worse, Elizabeth had snook out before the fight started - perhaps that was for the best - and they had no idea where she was, Turner and Sparrow were still no where to be seen and the Black Pearl had sailed away into the night.

At the panicked yells echoing on the deck - the men were far too jumpy after they saw the pirates turn into skeletons - he looked up just as the sound of massive wings beating in the air, black enough not to be easily seen in the night sky but the moonlight washed over them and gave them a slightly blue sheen as Jack Sparrow expertly landed on his deck for the second time in twenty four hours, bearing Elizabeth and William in each hand. The man looked proud of the exhilarated look on the lady's face and smug at the slightly green tinge to Will's, who really looked ready to barf up whatever little food he had had since they had last seen him.

"Elizabeth!"

"Father!" Weatherby Swann hugged his daughter tightly before immediately starting scolding her for her disappearance acts and foolish bravery. Turner and Sparrow, though, where held at musket point until James sighed and waved his men off.

"That won't be necessary." He finally stopped fingering his cravat and came closer to inspect the two. They both had cut and bleeding hands and James just rolled his eyes at them. "Get them some medical attention and food. Put Captain Sparrow in my cabin. I'll be keeping an eye on him tonight. Two guards outside my door, if you please, and two down the hall. Shift every two hours." He dismissed them with a nod and went to check on the state of his men. It was only hours later that he had any time to himself and he sighed, hiding behind the helm. He deftly untied the mess he'd made of his cravat and finally dared to look at his gem.

A relieved, incredulous laugh escaped him when he saw that the black pearl was in perfect condition. And before he could contemplate the thought that this was _Jack's_ pearl replacing the one he lost due to something happening to him, he felt a stirring at the other side of the bond before a wave of fondness washed him in warmth. He chuckled and sagged in relief, placing the black pearl to his lips, pressing the smallest but sweetest of kisses and hoping Jack can feel it. The younger Teague had never disappeared off of his senses like that. Even though he was just a Tutela, he could always sense Jack's presence somewhere in the back, his soul tugging in the direction his Curatrix was, seeking that feeling of belonging he had felt when he and Jack had first touched. It felt so long ago and he longed for it again but he dared not ask Jack to come to him or to go searching himself. He didn't know if Jack had stayed in the family business or not and he was content, until he knew otherwise, just to know Jack was alright and alive.

He shivered when he felt something a lot like a returning brush of lips against his own, even more so the caress to his soul that set him at ease. He was a little surprised Jack didn't send any of his strength like he usually did, but he figured after whatever had happened, perhaps Jack needed it as much as James might.

And that had him bitting his lip in worry. Jack had never felt so strange before. James had never even thought that his Curatrix might be weak or vulnerable. He always just felt ... like a confident, warm, security blanket. James swears his own mother's arms hadn't felt as safe as that one time Jack had pressed their foreheads together. He had always thought of Jack as invincible. He had, after all, jumped in after James in that chaos when they were just kids and had been just fine in the end.

 _'Maybe I should see a physician? Ask about the gem? I've never heard of something like this happening before.'_ He thought to himself even as he regained his bearings. The green eyed Commodore frowned as it occurred to him that the journey so far had been too quiet and he realized it was not just because of what they'd all lived through. Sparrow was on board, for crying out loud! But the man was in his cabin and no one had heard a peep from him since he had been escorted there. He set off for his cabin at a brisk pace, face going stony as he thought of all the things Sparrow could have messed with, broken or otherwise damaged and wondered whether the man had taken the chance to fly away.

He knew the last one wasn't the truth even before he nodded to the two guards in front of his doors before entering and finding Jack Sparrow, soundly asleep on an improvised hammock with one of Norrington's spare bedsheets. He had actually half expected Jack to take the bed but, apparently, the man had some form of mediocre respect for him and his authority on the ship. That, or he had noticed how pale and haunted he looked when he had returned with Elizabeth and William and had taken pity on him. Norrington preferred the first option. He sighed, tucked away his black pearl before closing the door quietly behind him and walked over towards his bed with as silent steps as he could make them.

However, a Curatrix can apparently sense you when you enter the room they are sleeping in, because when James turned around to drape his blue coat over a chair, he found himself under intense scrutiny of black eyes, sharp and alert despite the pirate having been perfectly asleep when James had entered. The Commodore sighed and sat down in the chair, letting Sparrow study him while doing the same in return. They just stared at each other for a long, tense moment before the Navy officer heaved a breath and cut through the silence. "I know you could have flown off and chased after your ship. Why is it that you've stayed? I hear there were enough rowboats left for Mr Turner to take Miss Swann back."

"Couldn't be sure whether the Dauntless was safe, mate. Especially as they had went with a sneak attack." The pirate Captain replied with a shrug. It was as though he were trying to sound as if he didn't care when he had just admitted that he had worried for the two youngsters' safety, however indirectly. "Had to check if you lot were alright, since I hadn't managed to keep to me promise."

"If I had listened to you from the start, a lot less men would have died because we'd already have been there and the men left here wouldn't have been so overwhelmed." The Commodore countered, regretting his pride. A good thirty four men had died on this day and it was all his fault.

"Not your fault, luv." It was as though the bloody buccaneer was a mind reader! _Could_ Curatrix do that? Not much was really known about the more powerful Curatrix and Jack Sparrow's wing span was _definitely_ well over ten feet. "'Twas Barbossa's and of his men. They've been haunting these waters fer a decade and now their reign of tyranny has finally come to an end. Quite a thing to write back home, aye, luv?"

James didn't answer for a long moment, not looking at Sparrow. "You know I can't let you go."

"I know."

"But you should also know that I won't be so cruel as to send you back to England and their scientists. It's as though nothing is sacred anymore, back home."

Jack smiled sadly at him. "It never was. They just hid it better."

Norrington shook his head, not understanding how someone could be so calm about facing the noose. _He_ felt more scared and nervous about it than the older man was. Had he made his peace? James doubted it. Jack Sparrow seemed far too un-tamable to have simply made peace with the world and was now just waiting his last moments. "I can't let you go. But _if_ you ... somehow, through means which I don't know about, manage to make one of your spectacular escapes that people so often spread tales about ... I may be inclined to give you a head start." Was it possible to beam so brightly? Or was it the light glinting off of Sparrow's gold teeth. "Nothing much, mind you, but I wager that will be enough for you to outrun the Dauntless by a good few days of sailing. You seem to be in possession of a lot more luck than I've ever seen with another, Captain."

Jack laughed heartily at that, turning so he was lying on his stomach, face still turned towards James. He looked oddly at ease for a pirate in the presence of the fearsome 'Pirate Hunter'. "Aye, Commodore. I've been born with a few generous blessings from a special few Ladies in the court of gods. Even Lady Death is too fond of me to take away my life and make me miserable, no matter how often I court her."

"Perhaps Fortune _does_ follow the foolish instead of the brave," James drawled with a shake of his head, even as his lips twitched in an almost smile.

"Oh, she follows them both. It's just that, if the gods had not gifted fools with smarts, then they have gifted them with ample luck to keep the scales balanced. Me? I'm just a special case." Sparrow stretched before turning away from the officer. "Ye should get some rest, Commodore. A long day is ahead of you as soon as we dock your lady in Port Royal."

"You seem oddly ... complacent for a man threatened by the noose." It was as close to the real question he wanted to ask as his pride was going to let him to get. Sparrow had been almost desperate to escape the last time and yet now, he was just content to sleep and wait for the noose to wrap around his neck.

"I've lived to set foot on me ship one last time. I've shot my treacherous first mate. I've found a way to make it up to an old friend by helping the whelp. _And_ I guess I got Annamaria the boat I owed her." The other man replied with a shrug. "Mind if I unfurl me wings? If I'm to die soon, I want to sleep one last time with me wings free and draped over me like th' most comfortable blanket in the world."

Norrington sighed, this time in irritation and in exasperation in equal amounts. "Do as you like." He replied with grit teeth as he finally stood up and walked over to his bed. He wondered whether he should let Sparrow have it, as a technically condemned man soon to face the noose. Just the thought of what their return to Port Royal will bring had him unable to sleep. He just laid down on his side, facing the pirate, watching those massive wings unfurl and cover the strangely fragile seeming body and tried his best not to imagine another person like Sparrow, with massive wings and tanned skin and a pirate's past, only the wings were white, brown and gold in a sparrow's pattern that James had been so fascinated with. It was hard, thinking among those lines and he took out the black pearl from his breeches pocket.

Sparrow was a pirate but also a Curatrix. Curatrix, for all that they were born for every fiftieth human, often did not live over thirty years. Yet Sparrow had made it and was approaching his fourth decade of life. He had to be a powerful Curatrix to have such massive wings. The bigger the wings, the more powerful the Curatrix was. Yet because of their human half, Curatrix never had wings bigger than ten feet. James itched to measure Sparrow's wing span and see just _how much_ over that record his wings were. Sparrow was a unique, special case indeed. And not even just as a Curatrix. Because when you boil it all down, only one simple truth mattered.

Sparrow was a good man.

James did not want to hang him. He did not want to be the cause of that twinkle of life and mischief and warmth leaving this man's dark, dark eyes when it came to the 'short drop, sudden stop'. God, he would rather shoot the man than face the possibility of having to watch him suffocate to death if his neck isn't snapped immediately. He had heard of situations when a man can drop in such a way that his airways aren't blocked properly and he can dangle like that for hours before all strength leaves him or someone takes pity and shoots him. Rare few ever have that much pity for a pirate and that was the one thing James hated about the Navy. He never thought of himself as better or more worthy to live than any of the pirates he caught. He hated what they did, not the men themselves. Well, unless they were rapists and molesters. He had no pity or sympathy for them.

But Sparrow was not like them. James had read his list of crimes and they were all fairly silly or outright cunning - escaping seven EITC officers, sacking Nassau without firing a single shot or spilling blood? Genius. But the only really dangerous crime that James had found was the vague accusation of piracy. Oh, James had seen the branded P on Sparrow's skin and knew that it had to be someone of high position within the East India Trading Company to have done it, but what had _Sparrow_ done to deserve it. Stories of Jack Sparrow the pirate were only a little over a decade old. Surely Sparrow had not sprung out of the sea as he was now and decided to become the world's strangest pirate! What had his past contained? How had he became a pirate? What had made him turn to piracy? Why had he chased a single ship for ten years? Why had he carried that _one shot_ in a pistol for ten years?

Well, James knew the reason for that last one, though he didn't understand the lengths to which the man would go to. Any one shot could have killed Barbossa. And it didn't seem like some overly important revenge plot. If anything, James could have sworn it was justice in its cruelest, purest form. You reap what you sow.

The rest remained a mystery that will end with Sparrow's hanging. Not even he could fly out of Port Royal to the nearest safe port - for his kind, anyway - even with those massive wings of his, even if someone were to set him free. The man might end up worse off, with someone who _will_ send him back to England. James shuddered just at the thought of it.

A wave of warmth and comfort from the other end of the bond he shared with his Curatrix suddenly had him drowsy. He tried to remain awake, troubled as he was by his thoughts, but the feeling of safety that settled around his soul like a warm blanket would not allow it and before James knew it, his eyes had shut and he had fallen asleep.

Only then did Jack let himself be dragged into the welcoming domain of Morpheus, exhaustion finally taking over. They had a long day ahead of them.


	8. Chapter 8

The crowds gathered in the main square of Port Royal were for the first time somberly, respectfully silent as the drumming unit played the death march for a convicted criminal, for a _pirate_ , watching with troubled faces. The marines didn't dare look away or actually look _at_ the man that was escorted past them towards the gallows. Not even the children there were making mischief, as they usually do by throwing rotten fruits and vegetables at the pirates being processed passed them and instead watched quietly with confused young faces as the strangest pirate they had ever seen walked past them, hands tied in front of him, head held high yet eyes trained downwards, as if there was nothing for him to see. Seeing as the sea was no visible from this square, perhaps he did not, thought Will with a lump in his throat. He did not believe the sight before his eyes but he fought the urge to look away. He owed it to Jack to see him in his final moments and forever remember him as this proud man that faced death with enough bravery not to beg for his life.

The journey from Isla de Muerta to Port Royal was a relatively short one. It took them a little more than three days to get back and the gallows had already been repaired by the time the Dauntless had docked. For the first time since he had returned into the Navy's custody, Jack was led to a cell and held there for the night, receiving a single bottle of rum and a meal Governor Swann had seen was fit for a King as a thanks for saving his daughter. _'As if that will serve to properly thank your daughter's savior that you are intending to hang,'_ Will though bitterly. Jack had taken the rum but had not touched the meal and his only request - his _last_ , a mourning part of the blacksmith reminded - was that he be allowed to keep his strange Compass. He had not shown an ounce of resistance since he had been shackled and Will hated him for not fighting back. He was a _Curatrix_! He should have been perfectly able to run away, to _fly_ away ... But fly away where? Will knew it would have been fruitless. Tortuga was too far away for Jack to make it, especially with chains weighting him down.

The young Turner still wished Jack was not so, so ... docile as they handed him over to the hangman. He wasn't even _looking_ at the sky! But, if he did, seeing as what everyone present knew about him now, they might just shoot him where he stands, thinking he wants to fly away. You can't shackle a guardian's wings, the Commodore had told them, as they are, for all they can be physical, actually more astral and otherworldly than they are earthly. And no Curatrix would allow some random human to practically clip their wings, about to die or not.

The crowds had gathered as soon as they had heard there would be a hanging. Barbossa's crew will be hanged collectively after Jack, but Norrington had shown the Captain respect by letting him go to death on his own instead of in the company of his traitorous crew. He had even agreed to Sparrow's request that he gets a burial at sea and Will had had to hold close Elizabeth when she gave a sob at hearing that. No matter how inappropriate it had been to hold each other like so in front of so many people, his love had needed him as much as he had needed her for comfort as they watched their friend's back as he was led away.

And now they could not even draw strength and comfort from each other, social status and propriety demanding they stand according to what was _proper_ and _civilized_. After spending so much time with pirates, Will felt like he was suffocating from all these perfumes and gagging on the polite lies he had to utter occasionally. His face hurt from fake smiling at the people he had once thought he belonged amongst. Jack had been right about one thing. The sea was in his blood and while he may not hear her call like his father had, he had still answered it and now being on land felt _wrong_. The rocking of a ship under his feet had felt like returning home. The solid land beneath him now must be as foreign a ground to Jack as Port Royal had first been to Will.

A blue coated marine unrolled a scroll and started reading from it, Jack's crimes, his sentence, the whole 'may the Lord have mercy on your soul' shtick that Will hardly believed the man even meant. How Jack could smile while he heard his crimes was a mystery to Will but he guessed the pirate Captain had some fond memories among his escapades. But this was so, so wrong. Jack barely deserved ten years in prison, let alone a hanging! It almost felt like petty pay back for all the times Jack had outwitted the Navy that hunted him and the mischief in Sparrow's eyes suggested he _was_ mocking them, even now, when he was at their 'mercy'. Jack was not a man who deserved to be hanged.

But taking away his freedom might be a far worse punishment. As a Curatrix, Jack was bound to be reborn in another life and maybe that life will treat him better, with no treacherous first mates, mutinying crews or angry doxies that always slapped him. He was bound to live several more lives until he and whoever his charge was were finally content and ready to move on. Caging him would have the same effect as it would have on his namesake. He would wilt and die and his soul may never find true peace again. But the hanging still seemed more than unfair. It was _unjust_.

 _"He sprang me out of jail. Thought I was unjustly being brought to justice."_ He recalled Jack had said when he had asked how the man knew his father. _"Good ol' Bill just didn't want to see the man who unknowingly saved his pregnant wife from some cutthroats hang."_ His father had saved Jack because Jack had proven that he was a good man. He had had everything - a good job, a wife, the beginnings of a family - and he had given it all away for the one man who had been willing to risk his own life to protect Will's mother and Will himself. He wouldn't be alive if not for Jack. Could he really do any less for the man who had done so much for him already?

He knew his answer even before he started pushing through the crowds towards where Elizabeth stood with Governor Swann and Commodore Norrington. Jack's crimes had been finished and his sentence had been stated. It was the drum roll, meant to add dramatic effect, now and Will knew he didn't have much time if he wanted to save his friend. "Governor. Commodore." He greeted the two men with a nod, who were watching him curiously, although there was a strange gleam in Norrington's eyes. Was that anticipation? Now was not the time to think about that. "Elizabeth." Even she was looking at him curiously. "I just wanted to say something I should have said a very long time ago but, until now, never had the courage to say." He gave her a small smile and said with all sincerity he possessed. "I love you."

He waited only long enough for the beginnings of an answering smile, though her eyes spoke of bemusement at his chosen moment of confession, before he started pushing through the crowds again. He was surprised to hear Norrington call for guards only when he was almost out of hearing distance, already too close to the gallows to be stopped.

But it was at that exact moment that the drums finally stopped and the hangman pulled the leaver. "Move!" He barked at what remained of the crowd in front of him, drawing one of his swords and throwing in just beneath Jack's feet, stopping the drop before Jack could get too low that he couldn't breathe due to the rope. He then had to fight his way up the gallows in order to cut the rope holding the pirate and it wasn't exactly easy with the beefy executioner trying to fight him off. In the end, it was the hangman's own blade that cut off Jack's rope and the pirate foll off of the blade he had been balancing on. He must have cut off his ropes on it for he was free and using some other rope when Will jumped off of the gallows to fend off the approaching marines in a way Will had never guessed a rope could be used.

He briefly spared a curious, wondering thought as to why Norrington hadn't started chasing them yet - he was thanking his lucky stars for that, as the Commodore was easily as witty as Jack and an even greater swordsman than Will - but he figured Elizabeth must have distracted him. Somehow. Will caught the rope when Jack threw it at him and briefly wondered what for until Jack started running at the marines and held the rope tight. Deciding to follow his lead - Jack was the escape artist, after all - he mimicked him and they tripped over a few of the skinnier, more accident prone marines, before running towards the pillars beyond which were the parapets looking out at the sea - the same one Elizabeth had fallen off of on the day Jack had come into Port Royal - the place this whole mess had started in. They slammed two red coat marines into one pillar until they knocked them out and Will picked up one of their swords before they both somersaulted on the ground when two more marines tried to chop off their heads with the blades on their standard muskets.

Unfortunately, when they finally made it to the plateau of the parapets, they were surrounded by red and blue coats and vastly outnumbered. Will tried to keep them at bay by running his blade over all of theirs in a circle, Jack protecting his back and moving with him. It had been a good attempt but it would seem something like this had been anticipated. Norrington even stated as much as he, his Lieutenants, Governor Swann and Elizabeth joined them.

The Governor looked none too pleased and very disappointed. "I granted you clemency upon returning to Port Royal and you repay me by throwing your lot in with _him_? He's a pirate!"

"And a good man!" If Will had never been sure of that, he had been proven right by the way Jack had not just ran and left Will to fend for himself upon being set free. He could have flown off while the marines were distracted with one armed blacksmith. He could have jumped off of the parapet even now, as they speak. Spread his wings and flew off, stole some slope and set sail for Tortuga. He only needed to sail part of the way before he could have taken flight. The Navy would have never caught him. And even the Navy dared not enter Tortuga with as small a fleet as they possessed now. Too many pirates. Jack would have been as free as his namesake yet he, just like Will, had thrown his lot in with his new friend. And unlike Will, who easily trusted - though that might change after his recent adventure - Jack had bestowed upon him a great deal of faith and trust that left Will a little bit breathless.

 _"Not all treasure is in silver and gold."_ The eccentric pirate Captain had said. Will found that it applied to a lot more things than just love.

"Know your place, Mr Turner." Came the sharp reproach from Norrington, yet the blacksmith son of a pirate noted the man did not deny such a truth. The Commodore must have been as aware of it as Will was and was only going through with the execution because he had no choice. Well, if it was true, William will liberate him of the choice.

"It's right here. Between you and Jack." Their eyes were locked in a challenging stare off that was broken when Elizabeth joined him standing in front of Jack, taking hold of his hand and acting as a wall between the loaded weapons and the Curatrix.

"And so is mine." She declared stubbornly, sending a challenging glare of her own to her father and James. Her father, loving and overprotective as he was, quickly demanded that the guns be lowered, fretting in his place even when they were no longer pointed at his daughter.

Norrington eyed the three friends and if Will didn't know any better, he would have sworn there was something a little like relief on the man's face before it was hidden behind his mask. "Is this were your loyalties and hearts truly lie?" They both nodded, not sure what Jack was doing behind them, but it's not his opinion Norrington was asking for. "Very well." He sighed and signaled for his men to stand down, much to everyone's relief. He opened his mouth, as if to speak again, when Jack was suddenly in the Commodore's face, commenting how it's all ended rather well, with no one dying and what not. He bowed to his friends, spoke something strange in Governor Swann's face and it was _really_ funny to watch the man cover his nose and mouth with a handkerchief, obviously not appreciating the smell of a pirate's breath.

Then Jack was back in the Commodore's personal space, hands fluttering about, gently touching shoulders and brocade. "I'm rooting for _you_ , mate. Know that." Whatever that meant, no one but Jack himself knew, although Will fount it strange that Norrington hadn't recoiled back like the Governor had. In fact, Will could have sworn the man had leaned _closer_ but Jack was walking away before anything could tell what had actually been happening. "Elizabeth, always a pleasure to entertain a lady who knows how to handle her rum. You're a dangerous one. Never change." He told Miss Swann with a kiss to her cheek. Will tried not to be disappointed when Jack seemed to walk away without parting words for him. "Will," he looked up, expectant and, although he'll never admit it out loud, excited for what was to come. "Nice hat. Goes well with the lass ye found." The wink was over exaggerated but still made Will smile. He actually even felt the faintest traces of embarrassment at the not so subtle but somehow still subtle praise.

He watched, along with everyone else, as Jack climbed up onto the parapet and turned to face them all. "Friends, let this be the day you will _all_ remember as the day you _almost_ caught _Captain_ Jack Sparrow!" And with that, the Curatrix jumped off of the wall and they all ran over, forgotten for a moment just _who_ and _what_ they were dealing with. All the same, it was not a wasted haste, as they were treated to the sight of Jack spreading his big, black wings, the sun giving them a beautiful sheen as he glided over the water, a smaller flier - a bird, a blue and yellow _parrot_ that belongs to the tongueless Mr Cotton, if Will recalled well - fluttering about after him. A true sight of freedom.

A shot rang out from the right and Jack's yelped reached them just as they all turned to stare, incredulous, at some overenthusiastic marine. After hearing the splash, they looked down again to see Jack's head bobbing in the water, blood slowly staining the water red from where the idiot had hit his wing.

"Bastard!" Elizabeth surprised them all by screeching and lunging for the now terrified marine, looking ready to gauge his eyes out.

Gillette snorted. "Idiot. He's got nowhere to go but the noose."

"Sail, ho!" Interrupted whatever reply anyone could have made at that observation and they all watched, stunned, as a black ship with tall, black sails - still tattered but that was bound to be fixed easily - slid into view from behind Gallows Point, sailing merrily for her Captain.

James lips quirked, despite himself. "A special case, indeed." He turned away, not wanting to wait and watch where there was a distraught crowd of civilians and a waiting prosecution of pirates to be dealt with.

"Commodore!" He heard Gillette call and stopped, turning to face his Lieutenant. Groves was still watching Sparrow's escape. James hoped his wing will be alright. That ought to be painful. Punishment enough, if you asked him. For a Curatrix, at least. "What about Sparrow?"

"I'm sure we can afford to give him one day's head start." He locked eyes in Will and Elizabeth. "That's all he gets." He didn't wait for their expressions of gratitude, wanting instead to take this short moment he could afford to himself to wonder at the almost purring of contentment sensation he was getting through the bond. That and ... gratefulness.

He swears he will never understand his Curatrix.

00000

Her black planks under his feet, her black helm under his fingers, her joyous singing in his ears and her welcoming warmth in his soul, Jack had never felt as happy and content as he sailed away on his Black Pearl, humming the song he and Elizabeth had sang and danced to on Rummer's Island. Well, he _could_ be happier if he could have taken his Tutela with him but Jack knew how to be happy with his lot and not ask for too much more.

Besides, he knew, now that their lives have intertwined for the second time - despite his Jamie not knowing it - they will be seeing much more of each other in the relatively near future. He could feel his soul calling out for his charge and, despite the pain in his wing - that son of a bitch had hit a sensitive spot - his wings longed to unfurl and take him back to James' side. But the Commodore was giving him a head start, no matter how brief, because he didn't want to kill him so Jack knew he couldn't waste it. It would both be foolish and an insult and Jack didn't want to risk offending his Tutela.

He grinned as he felt his beloved ship shudder under his touch and he murmured lovingly to her. Ten years ... Too long it has been since they had last been together like this and their brief reunion had not been enough. But now they had all the time in the world to chase that horizon and see the wonders of the world.

Jack was sure James could wait for a short while still until they meet as Curatrix and Tutela again.

His black pearl, woven into his hair, hummed with him and his ship as they sailed off into the sunset.

"Really bad eggs!"


	9. Chapter 9

"I don't know what to tell you, Commodore." Dr Lewis Witwicky said with a wondrous tone of voice, studying the small black pearl that the above mentioned man had given him for inspection while checking up on one of his own wounds that he'd gotten in the skirmish with the undead, cursed pirates. "You are in perfect health and your ... gem is in equally good condition. No fractures, no cracks, not a scratch. Nothing. Are you _sure_ you weren't seeing things?"

James Norrington, shirtless but for the bandages wrapped tight around his middle - a slight cut, a nick, really, that he had gotten when he had heard Governor Swann scream from within his cabin and lost his focus to worry - and around his bicep - that had been a graze of a lucky shot that, had it been any more lucky, it would have blown up a good chunk of meat and muscle off of his arm - sighed tiredly, running a hand through his, for once, free hair, no wig in sight. It was Dr Witwicky's policy, that no politics or navy or social ranks are to be brought into his ambulance, so James had come dressed in his plain civilian clothing to see the good doctor and try to figure out what had been happening to him and his gem over the past couple of weeks.

"I not only saw them, doctor, but I felt them, too, and I don't mean just by touching them. Something in the bond ... Well, I wouldn't say _snapped_ but it felt wrong. _Damaged_." He looked worriedly at the black pearl still under scrutiny by the older man. "It lasted only a few minutes. Less than an hour, I'd say, but it had nearly knocked me out, I think. I couldn't focus for a little while. But then everything went back to normal and it was like you see it now. Undamaged. Unblemished. Had I not felt my Curatrix on the other side, I would have thought him dead and that I was holding what had once been in his possession. I very nearly had a heart attack."

"Not good that, for your health, boy." Norrington snorted at that, even as he delicately cradled the returned pearl. He had always wondered why, if it was to be a pearl at all, it was a black one. Jack's wings barely had and black in them. If anything, the pearl should have been _white_ for Jack's wings held most of white feathers, others splashed with brown and gold in a pattern similar to a sparrow's. So why black.

"I thought he was dying."

"When a Curatrix is dying, cracks _do_ appear on the Tutela's gem. But they're not actual, _physical_ cracks. They are more like ... a trick of the moonlight, would be the best description." And he would know. Dr Witwicky was a Tutela who had lost his Curatrix some years back. The guardian had been an ordinary merchant, going about his business, when their ship had been attacked by Spanish privateers. They had been robbed but left relatively unharmed but with no provisions and their ship had lost the main sail, slowing it down. Worse yet, they had been in the middle of the Atlantic and had no hopes of making it into any port until it was too late. For days, James grimly recalled, Dr Witwicky had been begging James' former superior, Commodore Galloway, for the Navy to sail out with provisions, but the man had stalled for an entire week. For days, the good doctor had had to watch as more and more of those 'cracks' appeared on his gem, a beautiful, rounded ruby. James had tried to offer comfort as a fellow Tutela but it had meant very little. Had it been up to him, they would have sailed as soon as they learned something had happened, but the former Commodore - may his soul rest in peace while germs ate his rotting corpse - had been more interested in pleasing some visiting merchant prince than saving lives. After two and a half weeks of starvation, Dr Witwicky's ruby broke, turned into fine dust and was carried away by a nonexistent breeze. James had had to hold him back before he took a tumble off of his own balcony and listening to his hysteria had been painful. That's how he learned that the lost gem was replaced with the one that remained intact.

His black pearl represented Jack while Jack's represented him. If he were to die, Jack's pearl would evaporate before being replaced by his own and vice versa for Jack's death.

Dr Witwicky had been a former shell of himself for weeks. He had only pulled himself together when James had, in a desperate attempt to save the man from running himself into the ground with grief, showed him his unique gem. Dr Witwicky had stared blankly at it before his scientific nature kicked in and curiosity brought him back to life. He'd asked some of the most interesting questions about it that James had ever heard and the young back then Lieutenant had struggled to answer to the best of his abilities. Needless to say, the man was surprised and intrigued by his guardian and his large wing span for a mere twelve year old. He said some Curatrix never started growing out and developing their beyond little cherub ones until _that_ age, but Jack had been flight-worthy back then already. And the three - four, if you count those small lines of black on some of the spines of his feathers - colored wings were also very rare. Dr Witwicky insisted he become James' personal doctor after that and had been the only person so far that James had told about his new found item.

"It suits you," had been all he had said when he had inspected the beautiful, elegant, yet deadly weapon made by young Mr Turner's hands. James couldn't help but agree more. He didn't feel right without the sword at hand anymore. It was no longer just a sign of his commission. It was a part of himself. He still didn't tell the good doctor that he from time to time swore he felt or heard it humming.

"You shouldn't have been able to tell the difference under your fingertips. Not even if your mind was trying to trick you into believing there was something there due to what your eyes were seeing. They are ... supernatural cracks. Spiritual. _Astral_." The older man continued, tracing the ruby on his own neck tie - a different model, something James had seen was more popular on land and in the West of the new continent than here on the East - placed snuggly in a strange pin. "They are but a warning. Divine intervention in the form of an apology. A 'brace yourself for loss', if you will. But they _deepen_ and _crush_ the gem when your soulmate's time has come, so they're not mere illusions. They're there. What _you_ described ... I don't know. For all that we keep such detailed records on this matter, we actually know very, very little, Commodore. I cannot give you an answer beyond far-fetched guessing."

James sighed again and picked up his shirt, dressing gingerly so as not to disturb the new bandages. He didn't need a scolding. "Thank you anyway, Dr Witwicky, and it was a pleasure to have seen you."

"Stop coming only when you're in need of patching up and it actually will be." The doctor scolded but with a fond, humorous twinkle in his eyes. "And I'm sorry for not being more helpful in this matter. However," he paused, seeming to think about something, scratching his little beard. "Now that I think about it, that might be of help." He motioned for James to wait and went to rummage among some of his papers while the Commodore dressed and put on his sword belt. "Ah, here it is." He handed Norrington a piece of paper that had nothing but an address and a description on it with the words 'Gypsy Circus of Mystical Wonders' in big letters. It was a little out of Port Royal, beyond the last of the houses, on a big plain of green grass that at this time of year was full of jasmine and lilies and many other delightfully fragrant flowers. "I can't tell you more, but folk like them know some things we men of science cannot fathom. Ask for a Madam Blackwild. I hear she is a mistress of mystic arts, or something like that. She might know something more."

"Have you met her?" James asked curiously, wondering if he should go. It _was_ his day off now that the hangings had been taken care of. He had until tomorrow to do as he likes and then, in the morning, he was to start his hunt of the Black Pearl. He wondered briefly if he even had a chance of catching up to her. She seemed to be even faster under her new/real Captain's command. This promised to be a right challenge.

"No, but one of my colleges, a certain Matthew Barnsby, the gem jeweler, has and he said she knew what she was doing. She's not a fraud, Commodore, of that much I can assure you off." Matthew Barnsby was one of the not so rare people who specialized in making pieces of jewelry out of people's gems. No matter how you wanted it, he'd make it without damaging your gem. It is a craft developed long before white man set foot in the new world and they had known it here, too. It's almost as ancient as Curatrix-Tutela bonds are. Mr Barnsby was a special case, though, since he had been apparently born with two identical gems, one his dead guardian's and one his own, before his guardian's dissolved into stardust as it should. A Tutela born too late to meet his Curatrix in this life. In order to make up for his loss, Mr Barnsby had decided he will dedicate his life to making jewelry for other people to allow them to more easily carry around their gems. James has yet to hair complaint to his work.

James thanked the doctor again and shook his hand before taking his leave. He returned to his home only to take a horse - he was not the most comfortable on the tall, strong animals, but he was a decent enough rider - and took off. It didn't take him long to get out of the more heavily populated Port Royal and out to the less frequent houses of the more suburban part. It was a lovely ride and he enjoyed the fresh smell of blooming flowers until he finally arrived to his destination, where he saw a big red tent and ten smaller blue ones were set up a little ways away from the blooming flowers. Gypsies apparently respected nature more than James had originally thought.

He tied his horse to one of the rails where the animals of the other visitors were tied, before going through the crowds of interested adults and excited, curious children. He payed a few shillings here or there for acts that truly impressed him until he finally spotted one of the Gypsies on break and asked for Madam Blackwild. He was led straight into the big red tent, where he found wild, exotic animals were on display save for one purple tent smack in the middle. It was smaller than any of the red ones outside but it didn't seem to be claustrophobically so.

James went in after he saw a flabbergasted couple walk out, the woman protectively cradling her flat abdomen. He didn't have time to wonder what that was about before two giggling teenage girls dragged him in and seated him in front of an older woman, in her forties, who was cleaning her crystal ball. The girls closed the 'doors' of the tent and quietened themselves when the woman, no doubt Madam Blackwild, glared at them. She had black, curly hair, big earrings, a beauty mark above the left side of her upper lip and was dressed like a true Gypsy, with lots of red, blue and purple cloths, gold and silver jewelery and she smelled of odd exotic spices and jasmine. Her eyes were heavily painted black and deep blue, almost reminding him of Sparrow and his own kohl-lined eyes, her lips painted red and her eyes a green as startling and sharp as his own.

"James Norrington, what may you be doing here?" Said man started at his name but narrowed his eyes and figured most people in Port Royal knew what their new Commodore looked like.

"I've been advised to come see you regarding a ... personal matter." He said, casting a suspicious glance at the two girls. Madam Blackwild just waved them off and the girls left, pouting.

"You want Madam Blackwild to see you black pearl gem, no?"

"How did you know that? Only my family and my two physicians know about it." He was getting a little unsettled here. He _knew_ none of his family or the two before mentioned physicians would go babbling.

"And you Curatrix, Jack Edward Teague." Okay, he was officially creped out. The woman just chuckled at him, extending a hand. "Fear not, Commodore of Jamaica, you secret be safe. Madam Blackwild not tell. Madam Blackwild never tell." She shook her head when he reached for his coin purse. "Madam Blackwild not take money from you, James Norrington. Madam Blackwild want to see you gem. That be enough payment for a mystic like Madam Blackwild."

"I'm afraid I must insist, especially if you can help me." James replied but handed over the black pearl with only the slightest bit of hesitation. He couldn't help it. It was a part of himself and a part of Jack. It was only natural he was reluctant to part with it.

"We can discus payment, then, after Madam Blackwild sees you black pearl." She said even as she brought the unusual gem to closer to herself. "Mother nature be praised, the gods have not deceived Madam Blackwild in me dreams. It is indeed a gem." She whispered in awe, rolling the black pearl between her fingers. "You guardian be a powerful one. Big wings. Big powers. Big destiny." She finally locked her grass green eyes with his sea green ones. "You want ask question."

"It cracked a handful of days ago, ma'am." He said, getting down to business. "My physician could not explain it, as the cracks were physical but my Curatrix appears to be perfectly fine. It lasted only about an hour. Less, even. He sent me to you, as he had heard you might be able to help."

Madam Blackwild chuckled and placed a hand over his crystal ball. To James' shock, images almost immediately appeared on the round surface, depicting a shadowy figure of a man with wings in a pattern James would recognize even if he were color blind. " _Big_ destiny. Big responsibility. Favorite of the sea gods. Confidant of the mermaids. Discoverer of the Fountain. Finder of the Trident. Fighter for all free men who sail the sea. Breaker of curses. Warrior of freedom. He whose heart always know what it wants. He who will inherit the rules and their keeping. Blessed by gods and by fate. Big destiny. Big burden."

James could not help but watch. The figure showed to him varied in size, therefor in age, showing him in various points of his life, most often without the wings to identify him as James' guardian but he _knew_ it was him, even with his form so blurred and foggy that it was almost impossible to tell it was a man at all. Jack on a ship the same coloration as his wings, swift and beautiful, in battle with a much larger ship. Jack, a child, a teen, a grown man, in a strange shack with a woman that didn't seem to age, always close, always secretive, always trusted. Jack, fighting a sea through vision of a man. Jack, jumping in after the same ship he'd seen earlier, in flames and James could not help but reach out for him, as if it would stop him, hold him back. The second his fingertip grazed the cool crystal of the ball, the images disappeared and a strangled cry escaped his throat. He looked up at the somber woman, who had drawn a card from one of those tarot decks he's heard about. She showed him the picture and he saw it was not tarot at all.

It was a blurry image of two men dueling with swords on a mast of a ship in the middle of some maelstrom, a gigantic whirlpool in the background with another ship sailing in it. The next showed a terrible beast he only knew of in myth and legend. The next, a bay with a light house, overturned ship near it and hundreds of creatures that resembled demonic women tearing it apart. Another depicted a ship sailing into a fiery cave, another, smaller one doing what looked like a very impressive, very sharp bootleg turn. Another, a sea parted and a strange glowing stick. The next one showed a strange cave with water flowing _upwards_. She showed him card after card and they all made shivers go down his spine.

"Big destiny." She said as he leaned back, slumping in his chair. "Big burden."

"Why did the black pearl crack?" He asked in a rasping whisper, not daring to speak any louder. He was beyond unsettled at all of this. He didn't know why he had reacted so badly to _card_. Cards that showed no specific thing, that had nothing to do with him or his Curatrix or their gems and their bond.

"Because Jack Edward Teague were cursed and Jack Edward Teague break the curse. Curse breaker. Destiny changer. Fate maker." Madam Blackwild replied, no longer looking at him. "Protector of magic. You Curatrix no ordinary being, James Norrington. Many want him for their own purposes. If you find him, you watch him and protect him, keep him safe or you lose him. They take him and not give him back."

"Who?" He asked. "Who would take him?"

Green eyes met green and a chill went down Norrington's spine, freezing the very blood in his veins.

"Everyone. For he possesses a power untold. You be warned now, James Norrington. You be warned."


	10. Chapter 10

James didn't much remember the return trip he made to Port Royal. He didn't remember the two giggling Gypsy girls giving him a strange multicolored bead, wrapped on a flimsy string of rope. He didn't remember getting up on his horse. He didn't remember returning at a sedate pace, his horse stopped whenever it wanted to graze some tall grass or bushes. He hadn't been all that aware when he had returned to the usually busy streets of Port Royal near midnight, when only a few taverns and inns were still open and only the occasional soldier marched by on patrol. He wasn't sure if he nodded to their salutes as he passed. He didn't remember getting off of the horse and putting it back into his stable since the stable hand was probably home and in bed by now. He doesn't remember getting into his house or climbing up the stairs towards his bedroom, completely bypassing the dinner his housekeeper had left out for him before going home.

Hell, he didn't remember getting ready for bed and remained completely unaware of his surroundings right up until he looked at the black pearl that connected him to his Curatrix and he couldn't help but wonder if all that he had seen and heard was true.

Was his Jack really so important a person? Why was he then the guardian of somebody as unimportant as James? Did he truly hold so much power? Was he really cursed? Why so briefly? How had he managed to break free of it? It was funny how just a few days ago, James would have scuffed at all that curse nonsense and everything else the Gypsy woman had shown him, but he knew better now. You could say his eyes were now open.

But there were so many things he still knew nothing about. Half of the things Madam Blackwild had told him made no sense to him whatsoever and the other hf he had even less hope of understanding as it had been the first time he heard of it. He was hopelessly lost and he didn't know what to think. Should he call off the search for Sparrow and instead try to find his own Curatrix?

No, that would be a selfish use, _abuse_ of power that he could not afford himself to go through. His own father had abused his position as Admiral to continue hunting - haunting and stalking, more likely, as James had come to view it after a few years - his own Curatrix even with their bond broken, and by his own hand, no less. Lawrence Norrington had grown obsessed with Captain Teague in the years following that day when James met Jack for the first time. The Navy had eventually started hinting that the good Admiral had served enough and it was time for retirement. It took Norrington Senior a good five years to finally accept that he was no longer in the best shape to hunt pirates, but he had only agreed because Teague had not been spotted for two years. No longer able to sense his guardian due to their broken bond, Lawrence temporarily accepted that the red coated pirate captain must have been claimed by the sea, although he started going out on brief expeditions of his own making and financing after news of the Misty Lady or the Troubadour being spotted near Madagascar or the Caribbean.

That had been before James became captain of his own ship. Once his son had his own command, though, Lawrence had tasked James with continuing his legacy and, if he ever was to sight Teague again, he was to find a way to drag him all the way back to London so the two rivals - practically the halves of each other's soul - could look each other in the eye before the boards dropped from under Teague's feet and he died. Horrified by the thought of taking his own Curatrix's father from the world, James had only nodded and made no promises, sighing in relief when he was reposted a few years later in the Caribbean, far enough away from his father that, should he truly spot the elder Teague, he might not need to lie to his father.

So he couldn't just drop his search for Sparrow, especially not after showing such confidence and sportsmanship in giving him a 'day's head start', but he couldn't just forget or ignore the warnings Madam Blackwild had issued him. It would be downright foolish to ignore such grave advice. That left him at an impasse and he didn't know what to do about it. It was not as though he didn't care about what happened to his Curatrix. Dealing with Sparrow had actually brought to light just how valuable and resourceful a Curatrix could be. Was his guardian as likely to be as useful? Sparrow danced to his own tune. Would _his_ Jack be so inclined to dance with James to the Navy's?

 _'You know he won't,'_ a part of his mind whispered, recalling childish conversations, a twelve year old pirate boy speaking of the freedom of the open seas and adventures that could be made legends. _'Why is it that every Jack in my life is a pirate and a freedom-and-sea-obsessed scalawag?'_ He snorted to himself and put both Sparrow and his Jack out of his mind, falling asleep.

00000

_He was running. He wasn't sure why, but he was running, running faster than his legs had ever carried him before. He was running as though the devil himself was chasing him and from the sounds behind him, he might not have been too far off. He was in a forest and his lungs burned as he jumped over fallen branches, downed trees, too tall plants - thank god he had long legs - protruding roots. He was gasping and running, the world around him nothing more than a green blur._

_His heart was thudding most irregularly and he was still running._

_Running away. Running away from monsters and men both in one. The Devil's servants, they were, he recalled. They wanted something he had and he couldn't give it to them._

_But then he tripped and he wasn't running anymore. He was gasping on the ground, holding a cold chest to his body as they, the monster-men, surrounded him with cruel laughter, leers and sneers. He wasn't holding the chest anymore, instead he was running again. Gods, so much running. Too much, too much running. His legs were burning, tired, giving out under him with every step but he forced himself to keep going, to keep running. Running. Always running. None stop running. Only green in his vision. Greenery and speed and running. There were no more monsters after him but he kept running, expecting them any minute now. Running._

_His heartbeat remained oh so irregular._

_He kept running until he could run no more and he found himself, not in a jungle but on a beach. Still running. How was he still running when he had no more strength left in him. He ran and ran until he suddenly just stopped running and looked. Looked out towards the sea. He had been running so he could look out at the sea. To watch. To watch something out at the sea. That's why he'd been running. But there was nothing to see!_

_His heart continued to beat that strange beat._

_He was suddenly running into the shallows, running until he could run no more due to the resistance of the sea. Running to watch. To watch in horror as a beast unlike any he had ever seen rose from the sea, monstrous tentacles wrapping around a ship that was too far away to be anything more than.a black dot, a black outline of a great vessel. He could do nothing but watch as the tentacles started pulling down and the ship, with no small effort spent on her part to resist, succumbed to the creature's, to the_ monster's, _the_ Devil's Pet's _strength and was pulled into the depths in a horrific scene of nightmare and he was running again, trying to get further into the water but the sea was pushing him out. He found himself heaved back onto the beach, drenched, his tired legs and feet sunk to his knees in wet sand suddenly gone rock._

_The beating of his heart remained peculiar._

_He was screaming, calling out names he wasn't sure he was aware of, wasn't sure if he really knew and, if he did, from where. He was calling out to the people on the ship, begging them to abandon it, to swim away. He was screaming for the gods, begging them to stop this, to_ spare them _. He was screaming, his soul was screaming. He was reaching out and so was his soul. Reaching out for what had to be there, what_ must _be there, what, if not there, will kill him._ 'Please be there, please be there, please be there, pleasebethere, pleasebethere, pleasebethere, pleasebetherepleasebetherepleasebethere.' _His calls were not answered. He felt cold and scared and like he was suffocating and none of this was coming from himself. It was coming from_ him _._ He _was scared_. He _was hurting. And he could do nothing to help_ him _because he was weak and_ he _was the strong one._ He _would know what to do. He didn't know what to do but to watch and beg._

_His heartbeat was determinately irregular._

_And then_ it _happened._ It _happened. He heard_ it _. The_ cracking _. His hand reached for a pocket he hadn't even known existed and pulled out something that_ sang to his soul _. And he looked at_ it _and found_ it _beautiful but_ full of cracks _! Why!? Why was it cracked?! It shouldn't be cracked! His heart suddenly seized and he gave an anguished cry as something was_ ripped away from his very soul, taken away, not coming back, _ever. He doubled over, tears streaming down his face as his hand clenched the stardust, desperately trying to keep it, to not let it slip,_ it was his, damn it _! But he hurt. He hurt so much and he could not concentrate enough to keep his fist clenched shut. He whimpered pitifully as the stardust was carried away on the breeze whose warmth he did not feel., gone, gone, gone, gone, gonegonegone_ gonegonegonegone. _Forever._

 _His heart stopped. His world ended. His life stopped. His existence ended. His_ self _stopped. His soul ended for there was nothing on the other side to make it infinite, whole, immortal, eternal. His heart stopped._

_He felt a normal heartbeat against his chest._

00000

James sprang up in bed, gasping for air, one hand clawing at his chest, the other desperately reaching for the black pearl that was his gem, his connection to his Curatrix, his guardian, his other half, his _soulmate_. To Jack. He couldn't register his house staff trying to calm him down, hold him down, stop him from hurting himself. They felt like sand-turned-to-rock, holding him back, taking him away from his Curatrix and, Tutela or not, the one being protected or not, he had to reach his guardian, had to find his Jack, had to find him, reach him, protect him, save him.

The second his hand touched the black pearl, he went nearly statue still before sagging as a sluggish, sleepy-like comfort came from the other side of the bond of their souls, feeling almost puzzled. He let out a desperate sob of relief and sagged against the restraining hands, letting them hold him upright as he clutched the small black pearl to his chest. More and more waves of warm comfort and unconditional love washed over him, accented slightly with confusion and worry, and he bathed in the love and care of his guardian, no matter how far away he might be. The horror of the nightmare was slowly fading and James was barely aware of the tremors that ran through his body or the worried voices of his staff as they eased him back to bed, tucked him in and left him to get some more sleep after he calmed down.

He fell into a dreamless sleep under the ministrations of his Curatrix on his weary soul.

00000

"Oh my god, James! You look terrible!" Elizabeth gasped out when the Commodore joined her and her father to break their fast together, young Will looking up and gasping as well at the ghastly, white, ragged looking James Norrington as he entered the dinning room with a fretting Weatherby Swann. The man, despite his obviously tired state, was impeccably dressed and straight backed, but there were circles under his tired eyes and there was a different cravat around his neck - he had ripped up the cloth his gem had been attached to.

"Commodore? Are you quite alright?" The blacksmith asked uncertainly and Norrington just sighed.

"I could ask you all the same. Pardon me saying so, but you all look about as rested as I am." And it was the truth. None of them had actually slept particularly well since Isla de Muerta but it seemed Sparrow's presence in relative near proximity had held off the worst of it. Now that the guardian wasn't around anymore, they had all become a little jumpy. William had nearly gutted Mr Brown when the man had started yelling due to a hangover, Norrington had nearly shot his housekeeper when she had accidentally snuck up on him, Elizabeth had nearly fled her own room through the window when her maid had knocked over a vase with a poker in hand and Weatherby had actually clobbered his poor butler over the head when he had thought it was a pirate hiding in his wardrobe.

Add to all of that that James had dreamed about losing his guardian to something even less human than the cursed pirates and you can guess about how well he was.

"Do you think Jack's having these ... difficulties we are?" William asked a little later, when they all sat down to dine. It had been a mostly tense and silent affair until he had spoken up, all of them too busy expecting a skeletal cursed pirate to jump out and attack them. Needless to say, they were all relieved for the break.

"I imagine this is part of his day to day life, if in a ... lesser quantity." Elizabeth said with a sip of tea, still recalling how she had feasted like a hungry savage in the Black Pearl's cabin. "From our brief talks on that island, I've come to be under the impression that the supernatural is quite natural to him."

"Seeing as he has wings spurting out of his back, I have no doubt." The Governor said dismissively, not really caring about the Curatrix they had almost hanged illegally. It had been a tiring couple of weeks, to say the least, and he would just rather forget all about it than think about the Curatrix that had been somewhere in the center of it all.

"I will make sure to ask him the next time I see Mr Sparrow-"

"Captain," the new couple said without thinking and both looked at each other with fond exasperation. Jack had rubbed off on them, it would seem. Then it occurred to Elizabeth just _what_ James had said and she turned to look at him sharply. "What do you mean, 'ask him the next time you see him'?" When the Commodore didn't immediately answer, instead taking a precise little sip of his tea, the woman's eyes narrowed. "James," she warned, her father and new fiancé looking between them in uncertain confusion.

Norrington sighed tiredly. "I may have let him go once, Miss Swann, but he is still a wanted criminal and a pirate. It is my solemn duty to insure he faces justice. Or quits piracy." The last sounded more like an afterthought. "Either way, I will be chasing Captain Sparrow until one of those two happens or he leaves my jurisdiction, where he will no longer be my problem."

"You're no more likely to chase him out of piracy than he is to chase _you_ out of the Navy, James." Elizabeth said with a very unladylike snort. "That man was born to be who he is now and he knows it. The Black Pearl is his freedom and as long as there is a sea to sail on and a horizon to chase, Jack Sparrow won't be quitting piracy."

"Besides," Will pipped in, putting his utensils away and forgoing the tea. It was too sweet for his tastes. "He won't be leaving the Caribbean, either. From what I understand of what Mr Gibbs and those two idiots you have in the cells," he was, of course, referring to Pintel and Ragetti, whose only crimes _were_ vague mentions of piracy and theft. Out of all the pirates in Barbossa's crew, they were the least dangerous and had committed the least crimes. They weren't even convicted for murder so it was prison for life for the two of them instead of the gallows. Besides, they had been the only ones willing to cooperate and were also the only ones who didn't make a fuss. Even Jack had said they had only followed Barbossa out of a need for survival. They weren't wicked men. They were idiots. "He has some sort of ... piratical power here and he won't be giving it up. Not to mention all that treasure back at Isla de Muerta. You're more likely to chase an island out of the Caribbean than you are Jack."

"We shall see. It does not hurt to try. I am sure Captain Sparrow is savvy enough to realize leaving the Caribbean is better than hanging from Gallows Point." Norrington commented, wiping his mouth and standing to leave. "If you would excuse me. I must see to the preparations of the Dauntless."

"That man carried a single gun with only one shot and a cutlass as the only weapons to face what he knew was a cursed pirate crew who wanted him dead, Commodore." The blacksmith called after him as he reached the door. James paused, looking at the serious younger man over his shoulder. "He's not afraid, Commodore. If you corner him - and that is a very unlikely _if_ with the Black Pearl's speed, if you don't mind me saying so - you might not like what you will find. He can be every bit the pirate as he is a good man and he's no longer saving shots for mutinous first mates."

"Is that a threat, Mr Turner?" The Navy man asked with a drawl and an arched brow.

"No, Commodore. It's a warning." William said softly. James looked at him for a moment longer before continuing his way out with a farewell and a promise of returning in a month's time. Will sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He smiled at Elizabeth when she took his hand in comfort, both worrying about _both_ men and wondering who would end up on top. Fortune would have to chose who to side with: the brave or the foolish. And when it came to the Pearl, Jack was clearly a brave fool.

James hastened his steps when he exited the Governor's mansion, chewing over what his young friends have said. It wouldn't overly change his decision. If anything, it made him even more determined. He would chase Sparrow well out of his jurisdiction in the Caribbean - for he knew Elizabeth was right where piracy and Sparrow - and as such would be in no obligation to hang a man he would rather see free, like Elizabeth and William would. Then, after he had dealt with Sparrow, seeing the man safely out of range of his noose, James could finally focus on his own Jack. He had decided that he would indeed find his Curatrix and find a way to keep him safe from whoever would want to bring him harm or take him away.

Decisions made, Commodore James Norrington started the chase exactly two hours later and it was a chase that forever changed his life.


	11. Chapter 11

Jack could not believe his own rotten luck. Of all the times Lady Fortune could have gone on vacation, it had to be these last few months! Now, of all times, when he needed the touch of her hand more than he needed his damned rum! Now, when he knew time was running out and that thirteen years have passed. Now, when Davy Jones himself decided to be a dick and send one of his closest friends - still mutinied against him, the good ol' rotten sod - and his protectee, one Bootstrap 'Bill' William Turner Senior, to be the messenger of Jack's doom. Sparrow had been scared out of his mind when Bill had taken hold of his hand and 'gave' him the Black Spot and he knew his crew had been doubly so, for Jack was very rarely truly scared. They had fled Turkish waters and the Mediterranean faster than they had thought possible and Jack never told anyone just _how_ the winds always kept blowing in their - repaired after Jack took over the command of his ship - sails. At the impossible, breakneck speed Jack had been sailing them, they had somehow returned to the Caribbean within a couple of days but they had been in need of resupplying - and _land_. Dear gods, Jack had never thought he'd be happier on land than he was out at sea, but he had a beastie to avoid so land it was.

His stream of ill luck continued when the island they had ended up on turned out to be the home of the cannibal tribe, the Pelegostos, and they had perceived in their deranged head that he was some god that needed to be freed from the binds of his flesh. He really should have known better than to fly overhead in search of fresh water. They had hunted them all down and a half of his crew was used for food. He hoped the other half has survived. He'd rather not think about it. They've been here for a week already and the cannibals seem to finally be ready to preform the ritual and Jack didn't want to die by being slowly cooked alive over a fire just because he had wings.

He came to a swift decision that he really hated fire.

He sighed, sitting on the throne of bones they had made for him out of the bodies of men they had devoured before he and his crew got here. He had seen the bones of that half of his crew being taken somewhere else and wondered what their sick minds had come up with as their suitable use. He himself hated knowing their language and the fact that this wasn't exactly the first time he'd been made chief of one such tribe. He'd been made chief in native tribes several times, probably due to his wings and his appearances that resembled the natives close enough due to his Mum's side of the family.

He wasn't allowed to leave the throne and was always watched. As a winged being, they knew he could escape and so they made sure he rarely got up or walked at all, his back constantly to a hard, unrelenting surface so that he couldn't unfurl his wings and fly away. As he was now, he was stuck as chief, his face painted and wearing bones and ... other things as accessories whose origins he'd rather nor know. He couldn't go anywhere, he couldn't do anything and he was always watched.

So he had turned to his mind and to his thoughts, contemplating his life since he had met his Tutela again. Two years. Two years have passed since he saw James L. Norrington last time, his Tutela, a Commodore of His Majesty's Royal Navy and a pirate hunter. Too much like his father, that one. Not that Jack had any room to talk. He and his Da were even more alike, though they both kept a distance so others wouldn't figure it out. Funny how easy it was to fool people into thinking they're practically perfect strangers with a simple act.

His Jamie had grown up and it had been a delight to see him after twenty six years, but that was all too short, their second meeting. Not nearly as short as the first, but they had actually spoken to each other as two kids. Norrington had been far too preoccupied with his duty-bound side doing the thinking to even recognize his Curatrix in one Captain Jack Sparrow. That meeting had been under even worse circumstances than their first, though, and it had led to an adventure that had nearly gotten them both killed, along with two new friends and Jack's and James' crews. But it had had the positive result in Jack finally getting his Black Pearl back - how he had missed her so - and finally dealing with Barbossa. The Caribbean was safer now with no more undead pirates preying on fellow pirates as well as the usual prey. Barbossa ought to be glad he was killed by Jack. He would have had to face quite a few consequences for breaking the Code in front of the Brethren Court and the Keeper of the Code otherwise. That wouldn't have been nearly as swift or merciful as the quick end Jack had given him.

And for all that he had done, a part of Jack still mourned his loss, for he had once earned the protection of Jack's wing. But that Hector Barbossa had been long gone for too many years for Jack to truly regret what he had done _and_ he had done away with another of Jack's protectees. Although, he had always known Bill was alive. He had not felt the man die even though he _had_ felt the curse take hold of both his friend and his treacherous first mate.

Isla de Muerta sank some weeks after Jack's escape. Knowing the good Commodore would chase him soon enough but also knowing the Dauntless was a bloated, slow lady no matter how fine, Jack had risked it and they sailed for the cursed island the day he escaped the noose with the help of lovely Miss Swann, brave Mr Turner and the good Commodore. They loaded as much swag as they could, Jack even flying a lot more than Gibbs or Annamaria felt he should with his injured wing, and they left the island before daybreak, the Black Pearl sitting heavily in the water. They had to evade the Dauntless about a day away from Tortuga, but thankfully not even James would brave entering a pirate port all on his onseies.

Ah, fair Anna. He bought her a ship, not a boat, one that had her kissing his cheek and asking for the right to sail under his colors. He had, of course, allowed it - Annamaria reminded him an awful lot of the stories he heard about his mother and he knew she would be a right good pirate - and had even went with her so they could personally pick her new crew. No mutineers on his watch. She had sailed off as soon as Norrington stopped lurking around Tortuga and Jack followed her a few days later. How he missed her in situations like these. He was, though, glad that she wouldn't be forced to face this horror. Though he suspected the Pelegostos might be more afraid of her than she would have been of them. Women are right scary when they want to be.

He'd had Norrington hot on his tail not two weeks after he said his 'see you later's with Annamaria, the Dauntless neigh unshakable for a good few days until Jack hid in the mist of some islands that he knew were not in most charts. Thankfully, they were not nearly as abandoned as most would think and they spent a few days with the people there, trading some of their spoils for food, water and ammunitions. Jack then had done a little disappearing trick and had sailed away through one of the less known routs through the islands, sailing west, towards the coast. Norrington had only caught up with them two months later, when Jack had already gotten well acquainted with the Mexicans and their version of outlaws. Nearly been hanged with a bunch of cowboys, too, had he not hid a knife in one of his secret pockets in his coat - people often thought them endless and bottomless and Jack was not inclined to stop the rumors that only bettered his reputation.

James and the Dauntless' crew then chased his Black Pearl all the way to Cuba, where they managed to hide for a few days before they had to flee. They _did_ take quite a few bottles of the finest Cuban rum and tobacco with them and sold them for a good few pennies when they later sailed upriver in the Amazon rain forest. James didn't know the terrain so Jack had easily evaded him with one of the smaller side-rivers that the Amazon branched out to in order to get behind the Dauntless and get back out to sea. They had a respite from Norrington for a good five months before the Dauntless was on them again.

For two months, two _whole_ months, both ships sailed around the Caribbean, one evading, the other pursuing. If Jack didn't know any better, he would have said Norrington was obsessed. The last port he made before giving it a last ditch effort to escape his Tutela was near Tripoli and he had only a week's respite before the Dauntless was spotted nearing the port. The Black Pearl had swiftly sailed out in the middle of a storm and Jack had fearlessly led his lady right into a hurricane mere hours later. The Black Pearl had been as exhilarated by the challenge as he was, so much so that he almost forgot he had been followed. He had stirred his ship through the devil storm and sailed out towards the Atlantic, with a smile on his face that boarded feral, a glint in his eyes that petrified his men and a laugh in his throat that dared the gods to challenge him again. Word spread that not even mother nature could sink Captain Jack Sparrow and his bonny ship and they reached Europe about at the same time Jack did. He figured most of his men did the storytelling, particularly one Joshamee Gibbs, seeing as somehow Poseidon was involved. Jack hoped the ancient god won't take offense to his 'defeat' at his hands. Curatrix or not, he was not immune to the power of the gods that had created them all.

However, as much as his lady love had survived the hurricane almost untouched by its raging winds, the Dauntless was just as much damaged. In other words, she had sank. There was hardly two handfuls of survivors on the wreckage and, if rumors were to be believed, only one handful survived the journey back to shore. For all that Jack pitied the dead, he was extremely glad James had not been one of them. He and his two Lieutenants had made it back to shore with barely a few new scars to tell the tale. If other rumors were to be believed, the Dauntless had braved the hurricane at Tripoli just like his Pearl had but that had ripped her apart. Jack had only assumed that his Tutela had simply given up pursuit in such a weather - it wouldn't be the first time over the year and a half James had been chasing him that the Commodore had had to fall back if he wanted to continue the chase another day. It had never even crossed his mind that his Jamie would do something so ... stupid. Suicidal.

The Black Pearl was well known for being the fastest ship in all the sailing waters of the world, especially if she was going downwind. Jack was hailed far and wide as one of the most miraculous pilots in the world. He and his vessel were a deadly, impossible combination and there was nothing they couldn't do, no storm they couldn't overcome. Jack had sailed into hurricanes and maelstroms to avoid capture by the Navy before. He'd done far crazier and deadlier things for the sake of escape and freedom. His crew knew he knew what he was doing and so they braved the dangers of the sea with him, telling tales about it later that brought nothing but amazement and disbelief and awe to the faces of their audience. The hurricane at Tripoli was child's play in comparison to some of the things he's done in his life.

But James Norrington, a Commodore of His Majesty's British Royal Navy, was not like him, did not possess the same survival instincts Jack did, for all that they technically possess some small fragment of each other's soul. He was not skilled in such an environment, not nearly experienced enough to brave that hurricane. He didn't know how to use the raging winds to his advantage and had probably closed the sails. His Dauntless wouldn't have been able to outrun the hurricane even if he hadn't, she was too slow, not the right shape, too heavy, too bloated. She was not special like Jack's beloved Pearl was. She was an ordinary ship, Navy issue no less, with too proper officers and commanders. Protocol. Brocade. Suffocating, it was. Too heavy. Dragging even the survivors into the depths of the abyss.

It was only by Jack's own luck sticking partially to his Tutela that the pirate Captain had not lost him.

Jack didn't know what happened after that. The time was nearing and he had started searching for a way to avoid paying his debt to one Captain Davy Jones of the mystical, magical, cursed and legendary plague ship, the Flying Dutchman. Thirteen years had almost been up and he had known he would be of no use whatsoever to James' dead, so he had searched and only recently found a lead all the way in Turkey. Long trip, dangerous infiltration, unsure exit, uncertain direction, unwelcome visit, Black Spot, panic, flighty sail to the Caribbean, first island in sight, Pelegostos and here they were now. Jack, soon enough to be baked and fried and eaten, half of his crew dead and the other hf awaiting the same fate.

At least his beloved Pearl can't be taken. She will wait for him until his next life, of that he was sure. She sang her displeasure at his not being on her decks but no matter how much he wanted to go back to her, he couldn't. He was stuck here. His wings might as well have been clipped. Could this be his end?

He sighed, thinking again of his Jamie and wondering what had happened to him. Things were more than hazy over the bond, which was quite new. Oh, Jack recognized the haze. It had happened ... once or twice before, but never quite to this extent. At such instances, he usually could not really tell the difference in James' emotional state, whether he was in danger or not and if he was near or far. The first time it had happened, it had worried Jack. He had been eighteen and James would have been only twelve. He was, thankfully, near another Curatrix who told him it was perfectly normal to happen sometimes but that he should worry a little more about his charge's companions if he was really only twelve. To this day, Jack still didn't know what the haze meant but it made him think of rum.

Then again, many things made Jack think of rum so he didn't bother much with _that_ train of thought, either.

He sighed as he heard a ruckus further down the cannibal village, at the edges of the forest and wondered what other poor sod had been captured. That would bring up the number of living men - future food, if they did not find a way to escape - besides himself up to ten or more, depending on how many people they had caught this time. He pitied the poor soul but he had no hopes of saving him. Or them. Gods, please don't let it be _them_. Jack still had trouble keeping down the contents of his stomach just thinking what they had done to the first half of his crew. He didn't want to be witness to anymore deaths for such barbaric reasons as this again.

The hunting group came into view, heads first, with only one man tied like a captured pig to a big, sturdy branch. The leader of the hunting party greeted Jack with respect and humbleness one usually showed before divinity - Jack was tempted to put the fear of the gods and their more divine than human creations into these fools right then and there, but just for the intimidation factor he would need his wings, and if he tried anything, they would use one of those sleeping darts on him again and he'd rather keep his wits about himself when faced with man-eaters, thank you very much - before presenting the catch of the day, the rest of the party parting way for their chief to see.

Jack had to stop his eyes from widening when he saw it was a civilized man in dark brown breeches, white linen short, light brown waistcoat and leather boots, brown hair tied back in a low ponytail by a single black lace and a neatly trimmed beard. Relieved brown eyes fell happily on him and Jack grit his teeth as William Turner Junior greeted him joyously.

 _'Bugger.'_ Now he had to save the whelp, too. He made a show of standing up, well aware at least one of the tribe members already had a sleeping dart trained on and following him as he pretended to inspect the new 'meal' they had brought him. He makes sure he pretends well enough he doesn't recognize the whelp. No need for them to think he _too_ was one of their gods they needed to roast alive and ear rare done.

Will frowns in confusion. "Jack? Jack, it's me. Will Turner." The blacksmith from Port Royal says, as if he truly believes Jack forgets things so easily. He'd be dead by now if that were true. "Tell them to let me go."

 _'If only it were that easy, mate,'_ he thought with an internal grimace even as he berated the cannibals for 'bringing him an eunuch'. Gods, he loved teasing Will with that. Think what you want of him but if he was facing potential death in a matter of hours, he was going to go out with a few eunuch jokes.

"Jack. Listen," the young man tries again, a little desperately. Jack pities him, more so than anyone else they could have brought before him, for Will is a friend and a new protectee Jack had taken under his wing while that whole Isla de Muerta business was going on. His pity turns to suspicion when the young Turner's eyes zero in on the Compass that hangs from his hip securely on a leather cord. The last time someone had wanted his Compass had not been a good occasion for Jack. It had also been close to the last time he had shown anyone the extent of his powers. "The Compass. That's all I need."

Jack couldn't help but frown. _'That's like saying you need the entire world, for it_ is _the entire world trapped in a little box.'_ But why would Will want that? Wasn't he supposed to be getting married? Jack had received an invitation some months ago but had declined. Not only would he be entering the lion's den - James being the lion - but he had already by then realized he would have to find a way to avoid a certain cursed captain. He didn't have time to attend social parties.

Will must have noticed his displeasure because he hurried to explain and possibly appeal to Jack's Curatrix side, the one that usually prompted him to go and help others. "Jack, Elizabeth is in danger."

 _'When is she not?'_ He thought with an internal eye roll. His Pearl hummed in agreement.

"We were arrested. For helping _you_!" That was new. Surely James wouldn't do that just out of spite because of his ship sinking! He wouldn't have the political support for it! Jack knew rather little about land society, propriety and law but he knew enough that a Governor was above all military ranks unless they had a letter from the King. The Captain of the Black Pearl rather doubted the King would care much for one pirate's escape.

Besides, his Jamie was too honorable a sort to do something like that.

Jack wouldn't do it, either. Instead, he'd make foolish but desperate deals with the Captain of the Flying Dutchman so he could keep his beloved ship for thirteen more years. That's how he found himself in this whole bloody mess in the first place.

"She faces the gallows!" Not much Jack could do there. Not while he was trapped here. But he had his resourceful young friend now. Perhaps he'll think of something that will at least help the crew escape. Jack will eventually be reborn and find his Pearl again but none of his men were Tutela. They deserved to live longer than this and a death far more befitting pirates than being eaten alive by cannibals.

Sparrow waved off the cannibals to place Will in whatever prison the others were in. Hopefully, they will get free and take the Pearl but stay away from deep waters. As the cannibals cheered, Jack bent down a little to whisper out of the corner of his mouth to the blacksmith two simple words and hoped it might be possible.

"Save me."

He then had to return to his throne lest they knock him out again. He hoped the whelp will understand.


	12. Chapter 12

Jack could understand his remaining crew's weariness of the natives that live in the swamp around his friend's home, after what happened with the Pegelosts, but he never did understand why people were unnerved by his friend herself. Perhaps it was where she lived, her teeth or the way she dressed and painted her lips, but Jack would wager on it being rather that strange feeling of otherness around her that put people off.

Tia Dalma, after all, was actually more _other_ than Jack was.

He listened idly as his crew ate the little meal she had given them and drank the offered rum, muttering amongst themselves uncertainly. They had managed to escape the Pegelostos through sheer luck of the draw, so to say, but there was now only six of them and Will had presented before Jack a way to get Jones off of his back.

There was already a Turner on the Flying Dutchman. Will would do anything for Elizabeth. Jack only needed to set Will on a path and wait for the whelp to follow it. He could get the key, Bootstrap would look after him and help him escape and all that was left for Jack to do would be to find the Dead Man's Chest. The last one, he was sure he could manage on his own - it's a chest, albeit of unknown design and origin, so it's bound to be buried somewhere - but finding the key ... That was going to be a bit more tricky.

 _Especially_ since his Compass hasn't been working ever since the Dauntless sank. No, that wasn't right. It _did_ work. It still pointed true to where it should. But the problem rather was with Jack. He didn't know what he wanted. Or rather, he knew _exactly_ what he wanted but he also knew that _that_ wasn't what he _needed_. And so the two have been colliding and making a mess of his head for a while now. The needle would point in one direction, snap to another, then another and then another before returning to the first one again. It had at least lingered in one place more often than others, but for the past few weeks it kept jumping directions as it wanted. Jack was exasperated with both his own heart and his Compass.

He knew what he wanted. He wanted the Black Pearl. He wanted rum. He wanted freedom. He at times wanted treasure. He wanted his Tutela. He knew what he needs, too. He needs the key. He needs the chest it opens. He needs what's _inside_ the chest. He needs his Black Pearl. He needs his Tutela. Simple. Only that meant the Compass kept wavering between eight directions at all times and making Jack's life more difficult.

So he at least needed to know how to find the Flying Dutchman and he knew of only one person he could ask who wouldn't try to trick him. He and Tia Dalma go _way_ back. He knew her since he was twelve and on his first adventures with his boat, the Barnacle. She had placed her mark on him that day, proclaiming him her's against all manner of creatures that lurked in the sea and on land. It at times was helpful, at other times it caused him problems, but she was the only person who had known him for a Curatrix the second she saw him. Seeing as what _she_ is, that wasn't so strange, Jack ventured, but she was the first ... person who did not want anything from what is possibly the strongest Curatrix she has ever met and _that_ was saying something. Instead, she had been more interested in his adventures and in him as Jack than in him as a Curatrix. She's helped him many a times in the past and they have kept a rather close and unusual friendship over the years.

Jack was the only person who knew what sort of gewgaws she liked and was as such the only person who _always_ found an answer to his questions in her little hut. He rarely ever brought company with him, since humans were unnerved by her and she wasn't as hospitable for everyone as she was for Jack. His faithful Compass even came from her, although _that_ was a story for another time. It was too long and too complicated to tell it just like that. Let's just say he once bargained with her for it, as had many others, but only he had been successful. The Compass was his, bound to him in a much similar manner like his item and his gem were, practically a part of who he was today.

She knew instantly why he was asking _her_ for directions instead of consulting his Compass. Well, she _sort_ of knew. Perhaps she just hadn't worded it right.

She did give them the directions they needed and answered their questions - although Jack thought she had told the story of Davy Jones more for her own enjoyment and entertainment when she saw the looks on his crew's faces than because it was a necessary part of the directions. Calling him out on the Black Spot hadn't been nice of her but at least she had given him something that _ought_ to keep Jones away, at least for a while. He held more tightly to his jar of dirt and not for the first time wondered if it would work.

"Ye be troubled, ma Witty Jack." Tia Dalma said as she sat across from him at the same table that she had read the map to give them the directions. The Flying Dutchman will be there tomorrow night. They will set sail with the morning tide. Tia Dalma was their host until then. "Wot worries de strongest R̀mkel̂ā so ta put such an expression on him face?"

"The same thing that worries all R̀mkel̂ā. Their P̣hāra." He replied with barely a sip of his rum. He really was worried and not just about the Kraken. Not just about Jones. Not just about his own death. How will _that_ affect James worried him far more. His charge had recently gone through something tragic and Jack had not paused to wonder whether the other man might need his help. That was uncommonly cruel of him. Even if it _was_ unintentionally so. He was, for gods' sake, James' Curatrix! He should have turned back immediately and ... What? What could he have done? The Commodore would no doubt only truly come to hate him if he found out who his Curatrix was after such a tragedy. He would blame Jack. He would break their bond. Jack didn't want _that_ to happen no matter what.

Tia Dalma clucked her tongue beside him. "So ye found 'im at last. Why not be wiff 'im now? Why 'e not be wiff ya, Witty Jack?"

"Because you already know who he is and you know why." He gave her a warning look. He wasn't in a mood for games. "He would probably rather shoot me than see me, especially right now. As long as we're on different sides of the law, we can never stride side to side. We'll always stand opposed each other. And ... " He looked away, gazing out of the dirty window out at the swamp. "With this bloody mess I'm in, I don't want him anywhere near me. Not until I've solved it. He'd only be in danger and as much as I long to be near him, I know he would never be safe. So I keep away. And I'll keep away as long as he doesn't need me in his immediate presence. He survived for thirty four years now without me. I'm sure he'll be fine for a while still."

"Ye 'ave a plan?"

"A diversion. To ensure I get more time. Call off the beastie for a while so I can safely sail in deep waters." He didn't need to tell her what it was. Will still being the one holding the drawing of the key he had gotten from that Turkish prison said it all. "I need time to find the chest. After I have it, I'll call off the Kraken, give the chest to you for safe keeping and go check in on my Tutela. Just to check in on him, mind. No need for him to know I've been there. None at all."

"Tutela and Curatrix are meant ta be t'gether, Witty Jack. Sooner or later, ye'll 'ave to stay close. Him already needs ya. But ye'll see dat soon 'nough." With that, she stood up and started making her way towards the back, where she wouldn't let even Jack go through, even after all these years. But the pirate Captain grabbed hold of her hand, not letting her go.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked in a dangerous growl. You don't go insinuating to a Curatrix that their Tutela might be in some sort of trouble when they can't sense them through that strange haze without expecting them to become as prickly as a porcupine.

But Tia Dalma had no fear of an angry, anxious Curatrix. Not even one with wings as big as Jack's. Instead she just smiled mysteriously at him, tugged her hand free and continued on her way. "Ye'll see sooner dan ya dink."

Jack clenched his hands into tight fists and resisted the urge to smash the jar against the nearest wall.

00000

He had been expecting this, you know? He had known it would happen as soon as he had told Will to tell Davy Jones he'd sent him to pay his debt. He had known what Jones' reaction was going to be like and yet he still balked when the cursed captain appeared before him in all his squidy glory. He looked furious and eager, anticipating having Jack in his power. A Curatrix bound to the Flying Dutchman like the rest of his crew, and a powerful one, to boot.

"You have a debt to pay, Jack Sparrow."

Now, Jack has very rarely, if ever, felt true fear before. He's faced Davy Jones as a child, for the old beat up pocket watch that belonged to Fitzwiliam, the Timekeeper. He hadn't been scared then. But he _was_ scared now, for he owed Jones and he owed him his soul.

"You've been the Captain of the Black Pearl for thirteen years. That was our agreement." Jones says, taking a step closer to the Curatrix, who was resisting the urge to snap his wings open to make himself appear bigger than he was. Jones was a good two heads taller than him and immortal. Even half angels were only _half_ angels and they were as mortal as the other half of their nature. Technically, Jones was currently the stronger being. But that never stopped Jack for long.

"Technically, I was Captain for _two_ years before I was viciously mutinied upon." He vaguely pointed to Pintel and Ragetti, whom they've picked up on Cannibals Island when they were making a quick getaway. The two looked suitably sheepish and terrified when Jones glanced their way but the ice blue eyes soon returned to the Curatrix.

"Then you were a poor captain but a captain none the less." He stated firmly and Jack grimaced. He hadn't exactly expected much different. Jones had been too eager to accept his deal because it ensured he'll have a half divine being in his command and that don't come by ease. No Curatrix is afraid to die. "Have you not introduced yourself this whole time as _Captain_ Jack Sparrow?"

Jack ignored the snide laughter of the cursed fish-men crew, instead focusing on the important things here. He could not go to serve on the Dutchman. He didn't know how that might affect the bond and he didn't want to leave James behind. Not to mention that he didn't want to turn into any of these poor sods. It would be terrible for his wings. "You have my payment." He hoped Will will forgive him for this temporary, time-buying solution while he searches for the chest. The whelp just needs to play nice and everything should go according to plan. "One soul to serve on your ship. He's already over there, even." He point in the direction of where William ought to be on either the Dutchman or on the wrecked ship whose souls Jones had come to collect.

Jones face twists into a mask of mixed anger and incredulity. "You can't _trade_. You can't _substitute_!" He all but roared in the living Captain's face but Jack did not balk this time. Off the top of his head, with the same surety he had recited any other segment of it, he told Jones.

"There is precedent regarding servitude, according to the Code of the Brethren Court, page 35-"

But the octopus-faced man had no patience for him, did not want to hear him. He shook his head. "One soul is not the same as the other."

Jack beamed. He had him here. "Ah, so we've established the proposal is sound in principle. Now we're just haggling over the price."

Jones made as if to say something, disagree, silence him but then he paused. Thought it over. Greed won out, like it had with Barbossa. Jack was used to dealing with greedy men. He knew how to twist them, push them, prod them, get what he wants. A Curatrix is a grand prize but just one man. Power demanded more men to show off more power. Besides, some of his current crew must have been approaching the deadline of their servitude if he's even contemplating this now. Finally, after a long pause, Jones spoke. "As has been the case before, I am oddly compelled to listen to you, Jack Sparrow."

Jack did his best not to grin again. He leaned in a little closer, for once not hesitating to use his charms. He needed a reasonable price or at least one that will give him some time. "Just how many souls do you think my soul is worth?" He asked silkily, half purring the question. He never liked using his charms but he also never hesitated in doing so when his life or lives of others depended on it.

Jones pauses, thinking it over, a hand going over his tentacle 'beard'. He looks Jack over and smiles a smile that sends shivers of revulsion down Sparrow's spine before he even hears the answer. An answer he had anticipated. The one he hated before even knowing. "One hundred souls. Three days." One hundred. One hundred souls for the one hundred he had saved, set free, protected. One hundred souls for the one hundred that had cost him his ship in the first place. Three days. Three days for the voyage it took to release them somewhere safe. One hundred souls. Three days.

"You're a cruel man, Jones." Sparrow said with a bitter edge to his deadpan reply. Jones just smiled and took hold of Jack's hand, shaking it, covering it in slime but taking away the Black Spot. The action made the Curatrix feel ... dirty.

"Cruel is a matter of perspective," the cursed man said with a dark smile. "You asked for a price _I_ think your soul is worth, not a fair price. And the fair price is not one you could pay for even three years." He lets go of the violated Curatrix and steps away, turning to leave. "Three days, Sparrow, or an eternity on the Dutchman." He leaves with a haunting laugh that chills the living men to the bone. They look uncertainly at their Captain even as he stares at his slime covered hand. Free of the Spot but tainted with a promise Jack knew he could _never_ , _would never_ keep. He had fought too long and too hard for his own freedom to give up another man's for his.

All of his cards and bets were now on Will finding that key and he himself finding the damned chest. If he didn't manage to do it, Jones will have a Curatrix with far too much power on his side, seducing more men into his crew with his charms than would usually accept the deal with the Devil. Jack would rather die than let that happen, _especially_ seeing as who one if his closest friends was. Of he had to chose, he'd rather take Jones' punishment than be his servant. But could he really endure his greatest hell for all eternity, over and over again?

Gibbs walked up to the younger man, hesitatingly putting a hand on his shoulder. "Ye alright, sir?"

"Mr Gibbs, how much is a soul worth?" Jack asks instead of answering. The old sailor sweats for a moment before admitting he didn't know.

Three days.

Jack had his opportunity to find out.


	13. Chapter 13

Tortuga was loud, smelly, noisy, dangerous, scandalous, flirty, fun, drunk, high, wild, horny, lusty and as free as it ever was. Men were indulging in all sorts of sins and ladies weren't exactly innocent, either, giggling under their attentions or already leading them to their rooms, one after the other, collecting coin like any other night. There were several fights going on, in taverns, on streets, down in the harbor, in ships, in random rooms and even more random faces for the most random of reasons. Pirates, buccaneers, murderers, thieves, privateers, criminals of all kind. Yelling, shots, breaking glass and furniture, giggling of wenches, laughter of drunken men. Pigsty, rum, waste, sea, sick, death, swat, musk. It was all his new everyday normal, his routine for the past few months and he had forced himself to get used to it all, to not care.

The rum helped. It was stronger than any drink he'd ever had before, sailor or not. It was good.

He swayed, bleary eyed, stalking through the streets of Tortuga on unsteady feet, his destination not far away. The Faithful Bride was a favorite in this town of sin and he himself found himself drawn to it most nights. You can be alone while actually being surrounded by dozens of people. You could never do that back home. _'Which home? I don't_ have _a home! Did I ever have a home? No, home is where the heart is, right? Where_ is _my heart? Must be with ... with ... with what's-his-face.'_ He took a long swing of rum, blinking owlishly at the bright light of the tavern.

There were more people than usual and it appeared to be less violent, too. How strange. There was plenty enough people to start a fight and yet everyone was sitting at their tables, singing lewd bard songs and ship shanties decidedly off-key to the music. Some didn't even keep to the little musical assembly's beat! That was annoying. It hurt his ears. Why was he here again?

"What makes you think you're worth your salt, sailor?"

Ah, yes. He heard they were gathering men for a crew. Hopefully it was some privateer of ... of ... that nice, cold little island country with the blue, red and white pretty flag. Hopefully they'll take on disgraced Commodores. He looked over to where there was a small line of men - they must have started recently - seeing only four men. Or where they already finishing up? He had combed his wig especially for this occasion! It was not an easy task to get rid of all those bugs. He hoped he wasn't too late. He needed more coin for drink. The scruffy man immediately hurried over to the line, waiting for his turn.

"What makes you think you're worthy to crew the Black Pearl?"

How odd. That voice was familiar. How did it know about his unusual gem? No, wait. Was that the ship's name? It sounded like it. But he knew only one ship with that name! Did that mean he was singing up for the crew of the very reason of his ruin?

"Truth be told, sir, I've never sailed a day in my life. I figure I should sail out to see the world while I'm still young." A man with a beard and at least twice the disgraced officer's age said honestly, hope in his voice, looking a little behind the man doing the interviews at where the captain must be overseeing the proceedings. He snorted, wondering what this man was thinking if he thought he'll be accepted with that kind of resume-

"You'll do." The familiar voice said.

He stopped short, eyes widening. Surely he'd heard wrong. Yes, it must be the rum. What's-her-face had said it addled the brains of the brightest of men. Maybe he should stay off the drink. For surely the fastest ship on the seas would not be crewed by such useless twits.

"My wife ran off with my dog." A grimace stole over the scruffy man's face at that. Oh dear god, some people were _sick_! Or did he mean it that way? The skinny sailor up front continued before he could ponder it further. "And I'm drunk and I don't give a rat's ass whether I live or die." This was pathetic. Pitiful. Surely _this_ one won't be accepted. Come on! It was ludicro-

"Perfect!" The familiar voice interrupted his thoughts again and anger stole over the until indifferent man's face. This was a mockery, surely! Yes. This was probably some half generous ploy to give these pathetic men a chance to see the beauties of the open oceans before they die. That had to be it. It was acceptance out of pity. "Next!" The next man will at least have some sailing experience.

"I've one arm and a bum leg."

His jaw dropped even before the familiar voice - he strangely associated it with rum and strange stories and even stranger superstitions - answered this pathetic, sorry excuse for a sailor. "Crow's nest for you."

"Ever since I was a lad," a man with an Irish accent said almost excitedly, reverently. "I've dreamed of sailing the seas forever." Well, at least _this_ one didn't sound _too_ pathetic. It was a good motive.

"Sooner than ye think." Ah! He remembered now. He served with this man once, a long time ago. How long had it actually been, he could not remember. Gibbls? No, that's not right. Gribs? No. Garsby? No, that didn't even resemble the first two. He peered at the seated man over the Irishman's shoulder. Ah. Mr Gibbs. Yes, that definitely sounded right to that face. Why was he recruiting a pirate crew if they had served together? Right. He was friends with that ... bird-named pirate. The one that won't leave him mind. How did he not know the name of the person who would not leave his mind? Maybe the rum will help. "Sing in the roster."

"Oh, thankee sir!" The Irishman called to both Gibbs and the captain behind him whom he only now caught glimpse of, playing with that broken Compass of his, shaking it, turning it this way and that. Swan? No, that was the short, fat man who had looked at him with sad, worried eyes and the pretty lady who he had wanted to marry. Turner? Is Turner even a bird? Turner could be a bird, for all he knew.

"How are we doing?" An elegant yet tavern-sounding voice called behind Gibbs and the old sailor turned around to look at the Captain of the Black Pearl. That drawl was enough to send a sobering shot of clarity through him for the first time in many weeks. He gripped the neck of his bottle tighter in anger. He remembered now.

"With those four? We've four." Gibbs replied a little snappily before sighing. "I've written a letter to my brother. He's a lawyer in London. Best thing that ever happened to me. You can-"

"More will come, Mr Gibbs." Came the confident reply that grated on his nerves.

"Capt'n-"

"Listen, I make no promises about how this will all end for me but _you_ , mate, are not going down with me." Somehow that sounded more somber than he was used to from that voice which was usually mostly flippant if not talking about his damned ship. That only made him angrier.

"Ye'd best be comin' up with a new plan, Capt'n, and it better not be relyin' on that Compass of yers. The whole crew knows it ain't worked right since we fished ye out of the waters of that Turkish prison." Gibbs said and waited for an answer. When the Captain gave none, he returned to where the scruffy ex officer was waiting for his turn to be interviewed. Gibbs didn't even look up as he sat down and asked. "And what's your story, sailor?"

"My story?" The man asked in an increasingly dangerous drawl. "Same as your story, just one chapter behind." He paused only long enough to take a sip of his rum, knowing the older man was staring at him in confusion but the Captain behind him seemed to have stiffened like a prey sensing the predator. He faced Gibbs as he summarized his shame. "I became obsessed with capturing a notorious pirate, chased a man across seven seas ... I lost all perspective. I was consumed. The pursuit, it cost me my crew. My ship. My commission ... My life."

"Commodore?" The drunkard pirate ex sailor asked incredulously, squinting his eyes as though that would help him see him better. As though it would help him recognize the dignified pirate hunter in this scruffy, pathetic looking man.

"No, not any more. Weren't you _listening_?!" Ex Commodore James L. Norrington snapped at his once subordinate, glaring from under the fringe of his own hair and the ruined, dirtied wig he wore atop his head, underneath in-the-equally-bad-shape hat. His once pristine blue coat looked as though someone had keelhauled it before dragging it behind a dung-transporting carriage at top speed. The rest of the uniform underneath it had been replaced by well worn out clothes that had no origin in any upper class stores or tailors, as dirty as the coat but the boots seemed to be holding out well enough. Quality work, there. The man was drunk, had a beard and his face was nowhere near clean. The man didn't even look like a shadow of his former self, it was that bad. He had lost some weight but it would seem the brawls in Tortuga had served his muscles well enough to keep him in shape. He reeked.

The tavern visitors must have noticed the tension, for some of them were now looking over to where the tall man was towering over the stunned first mate of the Black Pearl, watching the proceedings with interest. Said ship's Captain was trying to shrink out of existence by will alone.

"I nearly had you all off Tripoli." Norrington found himself almost growling at the nervous older sailor. "I would have, if not for the hurricane. My crew said to sail around. I should have listened." He trailed off, lost to the painful memories and to the regrets. He had been so _foolish_ and so _rash_. He had been totally ensnared by two completely different desires, two different people. Two Curatrix: his own and the man he had chased so obsessively. He could not go in search of his own until the other was chased well out of the Caribbean, his former territory of jurisdiction ... Not anymore. Because of the latter, he had lost all means to find his own guardian and it filled him with rage.

"Lord," Gibbs' breathless oath snapped him out of his thoughts. "You didn't try to sail through, did ya?" He asked, clearly horrified by the idea despite being a witness to the possibility of its success, having sailed through it himself, if on a different ship. He was probably more horrified by the prospect of a ship like the Dauntless going into a situation where speed may be the only thing that will save your life.

"So, what is it? Do I make your crew?" He took another swig of his drink before leaning in towards the weary Gibbs. "You didn't say where you're going. Somewhere _nice_?" He flips over the table, the roster sheet flying off while Gibbs in his chair topples to the floor, helpless against the ex Commodore's superior strength. The Faithful Bride had gone silent, all eyes on him as he turns in place, speaking to the crowd with arms put up wide at his sides. "So am I _worthy_ to serve under _Captain_ Jack Sparrow?" He turns swiftly and steadily points a gun at the man himself, who was trying to sneak away while using a plant to hide himself. The man's luck held, much to Norrington's annoyance, and he stopped right behind a pillar, shielded behind it from the gun. The small black pearl in his breast pocket gave a warning hum that he ignored, rage sobering him up faster than a skeletal cursed pirate crew ever could and it was all directed at the eccentric pirate. "Or should I just kill you now?"

Jack peeks from behind the pillar on one side, than from the other, warily watching the steady and sure aim of the gun following his every mood and the stormy green eyes that would not leave his form. A small nervous smile filters across the tanned face for a brief moment. "You're hired."

James lets a cold smirk settle over his own dirty face, cocking the gun. "Sorry. Old habits die hard and all that." But before he could blow a hole in Sparrow, the skinny and Irish sailors that had just singed up on the roster before him rushed up to him and shoved his arm up, making him miss his shot.

"Easy, soldier!" The skinny man grunted under the effort.

"That's our Captain you be threatening!" The Irishman admonished. But they were not strong enough to stop James from swinging around and firing a shot, which broke some pirate's tankard and he clobbered the man beside him, starting a bar fight of amazing proportions. In the brawl that escalated by the moment, probably edged on by the faster pace that the music assembly was now playing, James could see the back of Sparrow's distinctive head as he protected himself and Gibbs from flying projectiles by unfurling his massive black wings around them before he had to look away and focus on the fight.

If you ask him, he had held on very well, all by himself. Years of fighting pirates made him an expert, after all. There was not a person in the room who could outdo him in a sword fight, even as drunk as he was that he still held on to his bottle of rum. But the weight of the sword, even after weeks and weeks of using it, still felt _wrong_ in his hand. He had left his own sword back in Port Royal. Foolish, really. That sword was his item, the extension of his soul into the physical world. One was at their best only when their item is close by, as close as they can be. He had waited thirty two years to find his item, only to give it away and for what? Honor? Because of shame?

Oh, no. If only it were that simple. There was no noble reason behind his rash, foolish decision. It had been pride, plain and simple. Pride damaged by the continuous evasions of one Captain Jack Sparrow. Pride injured by his own stupid decision. He had resigned himself and ran away from Port Royal, leaving an integral part of himself behind. It was a worthy punishment.

He would have left his gem as well but he dared not lose that part of himself. If nothing else, he knew, somewhere out there, there was a man who would accept him no matter what and he needed to know _his_ Jack was alive and well. He needed that last little ray of hope to live or else he'd meet an even more disgraceful end. And his pride would not survive that. He'd probably end up a spineless coward in his next life if he had done something like that. Would he even have been allowed to reincarnate?

He soon found himself surrounded, back up against a wooden pillar but the pirates dared not come any closer. There was someone at his back, whom he thought looked oddly too feminine to be wearing those breeches. James was eager for a fight. He had been in almost every brawl in Tortuga ever since he arrived in this place and started drinking. It had earned him the respect-out-of-fear and the attention of the ladies of the night, as well as some lads for hire. He had, at times, even gotten free rounds with either or, on some rare occasions, people would buy him drinks or the barkeeper would give him a free bottle or two. Norrington's presence in a bar or an inn meant many a bruised pirates and so they tended to not engage in fist fights when he was near for it had become a widely known fact that he would join in and beat the crap out of them and come out with maybe a few bruises, a broken lip and a scratch or three.

The music had stopped and there was something like a tense silence in the room. No one dared make that first move for fear of getting trashed in front of everyone. Arrogantly, the ex Commodore seized each of them up, pointing his cutlass around the room at the pirates surrounding him and what he was sure was Elizabeth Swann in boy clothing.

"Come on then, buggers!" The woman at his side looked at him with a gapping mouth at his language, but James had been here too long to care. "You want some? British steel!" Although he really didn't know where the sword came from. He wished dearly for his item. It would never fail him. Unlike this thing, for which he didn't even know how well it was made. It had served him well so far but ... "Form an orderly line and I'll take you all on. You, you, you, you, y-"

The bottle was wrestled out of his hand and a sharp pair to his head was the last thing he knew before everything went black.

00000

_Cannon fire._

_Screams._

_Gunshots._

_Metal on metal as swords crossed._

_Voices, some familiar, others he had never heard, calling out orders, names, curses, profanities, oaths, threats, promises of vengeance._

_The voice of his father, over the chaos. Hollering at another._

_Darkness of the brig and the light of a candle._

_A warm hand so close to his own, a finger bigger than his by only a little holding his pinky in a childish promise. A dear tanned face he could never forget, two black pearls so close to each other._

_Eyes as black as the pearls peering at him with sincerity and promise. He loved those eyes. He could drown in them and never regret it._

_Wings. Big and beautiful and strong. White with brown, splashes of spots of gold. A sparrow-like pattern. Some of the brown feathers had black spines. They gave him protection, assured him of his safety._

_They were one of the last things he saw under the cold water._

_But they were bleeding into black. Why were they growing and becoming black? What-_

00000

James came awake to the stench of the popular Tortuga pigsty and cheers of the men that had thrown him in with the pigs. He groans. Just another humiliating moment to add to his list. He doesn't react when Elizabeth, as he'd suspected earlier, comes over to him and crouches beside him, a hand coming comfortingly to his upper arm.

"James Norrington, what has the world done to you?"

He looks up into her face when she spoke but quickly turned his head away when he saw worry and _pity_ there. He didn't want pity. Why would he? What man wants to be pitied on top of their misery?

"Nothing I didn't deserve." He didn't have to look up to know she was frowning. He didn't _want_ to look up at her. What a disgrace and disappointment he turned out to be. No wonder she'd rather marry Turner than him.

"Come on." She said, urging him to get up. He didn't see the point. Maybe he could just stay here to die and rot. At least the pigs will have company and they were far more pleasant than the rest of Tortuga. "Come on, James!" Elizabeth insisted, throwing away his wig. It was beyond ruin now. He wouldn't be needing it, either way. "We need to catch Jack before he sails off!"

Sparrow ... That's right. He'd singed on to the man's crew. Despite what he'd now become, James was still a man of his word. If he didn't board, he won't have even that. And if he didn't have that, he'd lose himself completely. He can't afford to let that happen. What would his Curatrix think, when his Jack finally comes for him? James couldn't disappoint him, too. Besides, this could be an opportunity to find him! The Black Pearl was the fastest ship in these waters and Sparrow traveled to the strangest of places. He might cross paths with his guardian if he was lucky. And his luck surely couldn't get any worse than it already was. Perhaps things will get ... better from now on.

It was motivation enough for him to stand and follow Elizabeth to the docks, much to her obvious relief. Yes, things _would_ get better from now on. He'd be out at sea and have a job and permanent lodging. Yes, it would all be better.

As soon as his stomach stops churning from the drinks he'd indulged in tonight.


	14. Chapter 14

They found Jack as he was sashaying his way towards his ship, where his vastly improved crew numbers were now loading the Black Pearl with provisions for what appeared to be a rather long journey. The pirates he had hired all seemed in high spirits, though that may have something to do with the Curatrix walking by them on his way. Humans were often charmed by a Curatrix without the Curatrix even intending it to happen. Their divine half does it for them and it most often, when it is unintentional, puts their minds to rest and their bodies at ease. Elizabeth made her way around all the working men, hurrying after the pirate she considered a friend.

"Load the cargo! All of it! We sail with the tides!" Gibbs is yelling at the sailors as he walks by his Captain's and long time friend's side, overseeing the proceedings since he knew Jack was distracted after seeing Norrington. He was still a little dumbfounded himself at what had happened. It was quite a fall from grace for the man he had once served under in the Navy.

"Captain Sparrow!" Elizabeth calls out when she sees they're in a real hurry and not slowing down. Jack just looks over his shoulder with those strangely perceptive black eyes of his and a hidden smile.

"Come to join me crew, lad? Well enough, welcome aboard."

Elizabeth frowned and came to stride right behind him, doing her best to keep pace with him. Her companion was having better luck than her with his longer legs but he was swaying and sick with drink, a green tinge to his face that strangely accented his eyes. "I've come to find the man I love."

That stops Jack in his tracks and Gibbs stumbles to a stop beside him, keeping close to Sparrow as he turns around and peers at her. Then his face splits into a genuine smile and he spreads his arms in welcome, as though to hug her. "Elizabeth!" Came the warm greeting and she couldn't help but smiling back and rushing into his arms. Somehow, she felt safer now. Surer. Like everything was suddenly going to be alright. This was Jack. He had saved her and Will before and he'll surely save them and help them again. Besides, she was still pretty sure he was her Curatrix. He had never actually confirmed it but he hadn't denied it either, on that island, two years ago. He was here and she could rest easy now because Jack always came out on top.

"Jack." She greeted back, more friendly like. She nodded to Gibbs when he greeted her before focusing on the pirate Captain again. "I know Will set out to find you. Where is he? He said he'll go to Tortuga first because you were bound to be here or someone would know where you are-"

"Elizabeth," he cut her off when she started rambling. "Darling, I am truly unhappy to have to tell you this." And he was, especially when he saw her brace herself. Both of them were his friends and he'd rather not involve them at all, but it was too late now. All that was left for him was to hope young William will be careful and that the older William will have enough wits about himself to look after his own son. "But through unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances that have nothing whatsoever to do with me, poor William was press-ganged into Davy Jones' crew."

There was a beat of silence in which Elizabeth just blinked at him before a derisive snort broke it. Elizabeth and Jack looked over to the unsteady looking Norrington as he rolled his eyes at the pirate. His sudden sober state was doing him no good. He should have just stayed drunk. "Oh, please." He all but sneered. The Captain of the Flying Dutchman. A ship that ferries those who died at sea from this world to the next. Don't make me laugh."

Jack frowned at his Tutela, startled to realize the haze was clearing up little by little. Was the connection hazy ... because James was _drunk_? He's never allowing Norrington near a bottle of rum again. Bonus! More rum for him! But the state of his charge truly worried him. There was almost nothing left of the once proud man that had hunted him across half of the Atlantic ocean. As more of the haze lifted, Jack could sense more and more of his turbulent emotions. And what he found there had him _very_ uneasy.

"You look bloody awful, mate." Some of his concern seeped into his voice, leaving his two younger companions blinking at him in surprise and confusion. _Ouch_! Hey, he can care! Even if they _don't_ know James is his Tutela, they had fought on the same side and he had even let Jack go. He ignored the part of his brain that pointed out James had also chased him all over the Caribbean and that he had almost _shot_ him just some minutes ago. That was the Black Pearl talking. She was awfully protective of her Captain, especially after they reunited at last. "What are you doing here?" Because he'd really like to know. Tortuga didn't strike him as a place Norrington would fancy. And why was his uniform in tatters? Shouldn't he be back in Port Royal, driving fear into the hearts of pirates? Up keeping the law? How long had he even been here to look this bad? The man _smelled_ funny. Jack's nose was used to all sorts of smells so you can just guess what _that's_ saying about James' odor right now.

"You _hired_ me." The man replied after emptying his stomach of some of the night's drinks. "I can't help that your standards are lax."

Jack watched in worry as Norrington looked ready to hurl some more but defiantly held it back. It would really do him.a world of good to just let it all out, _especially_ if he wants to board the Pearl. She was already pissed enough with him _without_ him trying to repaint her hull with his stomach juices.

"Actually, I'd say they got better if you've singed up." He grinned as Elizabeth's mouth went agape while Norrington eyed him suspiciously. He meant it, of course, but let them think what they want. "And don't go dissing Jones. You'll find he's a _lot_ worse than skeletal pirates with cursed Aztec gold."

When Norrington looks ready to throw in another snide comment, Elizabeth shushes him before turning back to the pirate Captain, ignoring both of their incredulous stares. "Jack, all I want to do is get Will back."

Jack knew this, of course, and he said as much when it occurred to him. Will gets the key so it's only proper Elizabeth gets the chest. He then finds a way to help them get out of whatever mess they'd gotten themselves into _this_ time - he really doesn't understand why people blame _him_ for everything. He didn't _make_ them free him. He didn't _make_ them go into hurricanes or arrest pirates. He just lived as he saw fit and people tended to interfere with his plans, making things more difficult than they ought to be - and then he'll be on his merry way _without_ anyone dying or giving away his Compass. Will was really naive if he thought Jack would give up the one thing besides his item, his gem and his Tutela that was connected directly to his very being.

"I was actually rather hoping you'd say that, darling, for where there is a will, there is a way." His cheer caught her off guard but he saw hope blooming in her eyes. Good. "For, you see, luv, there is a chest"

"Oh dear." They both shushed Norrington this time. Feeling like he was not a part of the conversation anymore, he finally gave up his battle with his stomach and conceded his defeat by going to hurl across the railing of the docks.

"There is a chest." Jack began again. "A chest of unknown size and origin-"

"What contains the beating heart of Davy Jones!" He was interrupted once again, this time by Pintel, who had not been able to not interfere. Ragetti even went as far as to imitate the thumps and the convulsing of the heart with his hand before the two scurried away under their Captain's glare. Elizabeth looks after them before focusing back on Sparrow. She looked eager for the finish of the story even though she was nausiated by the idea of a heart outside of a man's chest.

"Whoever possesses that chest possesses the leverage to command Jones to do whatever he or she wants." He told her with a grim although his eyes were serious. "Including saving our brave, dear William from his grim and unsavory fate of horrors."

She seemed to be considering believing him ot not and he didn't blame her. Not everyone met the cursed sea-creatures-covered Captain of the Flying Dutchman when they were twelve, after all. Only he had that unfortunate luck.

"You don't actually _believe_ him, do you?" Norrington sounded disbelieving enough for the both of them and Jack pouted at him.

"Oh, sure, you can believe in cursed gold and fight a crew of undead pirates who turn into skeletons when in moonlight and sea a man with wings fly about but you can't believe in the legend of the farrier of the dead?" That shut him up. As a Tutela with a Curatrix as the most integral part of his existence, he can't really deny the supernatural. Not if he doesn't want to be called a hypocrite. Not to mention Jack had a point about Barbossa's crew and the Aztec gold, as well. That seemed to be proof enough for the Governor's daughter.

"How do we find him?"

Jack was delighted and quickly presented her with his Compass. The very thing that she and William had set out to get in order to, for some reason he just knew he wouldn't like, trade it for their pardons and continued normal lives. Normal was overrated, if you ask him. Ah, but he _did_ have a speaking ship, wings on his back and a magical Compass. Speaking of which ...

"With this." He shows her his Compass, opening and closing it but he knew she saw the restless needle inside. "This Compass of mine ... It is unique. Not another one like it in the world-"

"Unique here having the meaning of _broken_?" Norrington gets a reprimanding look for that one, but he just shrugs and goes back to emptying his stomach. He actually felt better than he had in months. For one, his Curatrix finally seemed to be clear to him on the other side of their bond. Things had been ... misty for the past couple of months especially. The soberer he got, the clearer his Jack's worry and relief become. Had the drink actually put up some sort of ... barrier between them? No, more like a curtain. They could tell the other is there somewhere but there was something in between, blocking the light and the view. He's never indulging in drink again if it meant his guardian will be out of his reach to this point.

"True enough," Sparrow went back to his conversation with the lady, who was watching them in amusement. "My Compass does not point North."

Recalling something someone had told her, Elizabeth asks curiously. "Where does it point?"

Jack gave her his most mysterious smile and she was immediately drawn in, as if charmed. "It points to the thing you want most in this world." She looks at him with disbelief, obviously not believing him. Jack wants to scowl. Why was _this_ the hardest thing to believe if she's willing to accept that Davy Jones himself is more than lore? Well, he guessed it _was_ a bit more far-fetched than Davy Jones, since there's been stories about him for decades now. His Compass was a secret between himself, Tia Dalma and a few chosen other people, most of them already dead. Jack only told those he deemed worthy or precious about his Compass. He guessed a protectee and his Tutela more than counted in there. "Come on, Lizzie. How is this any more unlikely than the rest of what you've seen with me?" Besides, she might not have a Curatrix, but she did have a gem and that meant she had a guardian angel somewhere. Gems were humanity's connection to the divine, which is why even the hungriest, most starved people did not give away their gems for money or food. People _died_ protecting their gems and items. Only the cruelest of beings took gems or items. Jack knew only of a few people who dared go that far, even amongst pirates, as it was even against the Code. Items and gems are sacred.

She bites her lip, smiling at him uncertainly. "Jack," she tries to coax him out of what she thought was a joke but he remained as he was. He was not pulling her leg on this one, she realized. "Are you really telling the truth?"

"Every word, luv," he told her seriously. She nods after a moment's thought, believing him, and he places the device in her hand, closed. "What you want the most in the world is to find Davy Jones' heart so we can save young Will, right?"

"Of course," she says and he nods with a smile, snapping open the Compass and quick as lightning stepping a good five feet away from it and her. She watched him in confusion until the needle caught her attention and she focused on it. She saw it weaver a bit before determinedly spinning in a circle. She was aware of both of the men peering over her shoulder as the final direction was revealed and Jack grinned while Norrington stared at it in half disbelief, half skepticism.

"Mr Gibbs!" The two from Port Royal jumped out of their skins at Sparrow bellow, doing so again when the called upon man seemed to practically materialize before them, all too used to his Captain's calling. " we have our heading."

"Finally!" The exclamation had James and Elizabeth exchanging looks as Jack sauntered away, he and Gibbs prompting the men to work faster. The Irish fellow from before came with ten more men behind him, all new recruits that wished to sail under the legendary eccentric Captain, who welcomed them aboard with open arms, so to speak.

"Miss Swann?" He offered her a hand with a perfectly gentlemanly bow, much to her surprise, but the twinkle in his eyes lifted her spirits and she smiled as she accepted his help aboard. Behind them, they heard Pintel hand Norrington a goat, which made Jack pause and look over his shoulder. "Mr Pintel, do be so kind to take that goat back and take it to the hold." The fat, short, balding pirate gawks at him until Jack's smile turns sharp and he scrambles to do as told. The edge leaves Sparrow's smile as he beckons Norrington. "Come, come, now, Commodore. We haven't a minute to waste."

Confused, the ex Navy officer followed, Elizabeth looking over her shoulder between him and Jack as he led them aboard.

00000

Will grunted as his father treated his back. The flogging wounds had reopened again, much to his displeasure. That was the third time in two hours and the physical labor aboard the Flying Dutchman was not helping. He had been pissed with the older man when Bill had taken the whip and flogged him but he had seen what would have awaited him had the bosu'n done it and was half grateful.

"How is Jack?" Bootstrap asked of his son, finishing with the cleaning and going about dressing his wounds as best as he can with what they had aboard, which was pretty much nothing. He had been meaning to ask about the Curatrix but had first wanted to speak with his son a little more normally, especially after having had flogged him. Jones had a cruel mind. A tyrant on the sea and on his own ship. He should have never betrayed Jack like he had. Even with the apology and the drink, he felt he owed his former Captain. He had spoken up too late, but, honestly, he had been afraid of what would befall him if he had stepped in to complain earlier. He was a coward and for it, he was now twice cursed. The curse of the Aztec gold was broken but he will not be able to leave the Dutchman for another ninety years. He was a double coward for begging Jones to join his crew when he had been tied to a cannon and sent to the depths.

"As well as he can be. Nearly became food for a bunch of cannibals just a couple of days ago." Bill had to chuckle at that, as did Will, but the mood soon turned sober. "He seems spooked. I never thought someone like Jack Sparrow would fear death."

"It's not death for him, Will. It's eternal servitude or eternal suffering, depending on how much he pisses Jones off." Bootstrap said as he tied up the bandages tight before nodding at his handiwork and telling his son to dress. "And I think he knows the only way to avoid servitude _is_ suffering. I fear he'll do something ... "

"Stupid?" Will offered at the pause with a faint grin, trying to lift the mood but failing.

"Rash." Bill corrected. "Desperate. A last ditch effort to ensure he can't be used." At the younger William's confused stare, the father explained. "Jack Sparrow is perhaps the most powerful guardian born on this earth, Will."

"Curatrix," Will corrected like Jack had him but Bill paid it no mind. Nomenclature was not of importance right now.

"He at times charms humans with nothing more than his presence and he is not even aware of doing it. He is _very_ powerful, Will. His wing span is unheard of. And Jones wants him." The older man shuddered. "The amount of people he could use Jack against is disastrous, boy. The only one who would be immune to Jack would be his own Tutela. And that's not even mentioning Jack's other powers. He doesn't show them off often, but Jones is practically the sea ever since the time of the First Brethren Court and he _knows_ these kinds of things. And if Jack doesn't serve, it's the Locker for him. Jack would go mad down there and would be easy prey later for Jones to manipulate. Jack must _not_ be taken by Jones." He shakes his head. "It's a good thing he sent you to get the key, no matter _how_ angry I am at him for doing it. But I guess he partially did it because he knew I was here and he wanted us to have a chance to t-"

"He knew you were here?!" Will snapped, staring wide eyed at his father. Bill stopped short, startled. "And he didn't do anything about it?"

"Well, he took me in as a protectee, so, yes, he knew I wasn't exactly 'dead', you see. But he couldn't do anything about it when he hadn't even known how to find me. Well, his Compass would be able to find me but he wouldn't be able to come for me, you see. Only the Black Pearl is faster than the Flying Dutchman."

But Will wasn't even listening to him anymore. All that he could think about was that Jack Sparrow had had the means for the past two years to save his father but had never bothered. He forgot all about Commodore Norrington having chased him for most of those two years. He forgot that Jack was spooked and that he owed Jones a debt, so therefore he would have avoided the man to the best of his abilities. He conveniently forgot all of that, even that Tia Dalma had said 'Jack Sparrow did not know what he wants. Or he did but was loath to claim it as his own' and whatever that meant. All he could focus on was that Jack Sparrow had betrayed a so called friend and Will would not forgive him, especially as it was his father.

Jack Sparrow better watch his beck as Will Turner was no longer interested in protecting it and he was coming for him.


	15. Chapter 15

James couldn't do anything more than follow when, some hours after they departed from Tortuga, Sparrow grabbed hold of his wrist and with surprising strength for his lithe frame tugged him away towards his cabin, snapping orders as he went. He wasn't the only one baffled by this behavior, as only Gibbs seemed to understand and he wasn't yapping this time, as he was often wont to. He kept quiet and watched the proceedings with a grim face as James was dragged like a little child into the great cabin. Elizabeth, who had just come out from the forecastle cabin, followed just as helplessly, curious as to what the Captain wanted with the Commodore, although just as baffled as everyone else.

What awaited in the cabin was perhaps even more baffling, as far as Sparrow's surprising, unpredictable behavior went. There was a barrel of heated water behind a privacy screen in one corner and the usually map covered table was now instead set for a right feast, all fresh, warm food that left both of his visitors with watering mouths. Elizabeth hadn't had a decent meal since she was arrested and James hadn't had one this delicious looking or smelling in _months_. Both of their stomachs gave a low growl, although both were a bit more tempted by the idea of a warm bath than mere food. Too much dirt and grime that they were not used to, for James especially, even if he was a fairly seasoned sailor. He had still never been as dirty as he was now.

The next surprise came from Jack continuing to drag the ex Commodore towards the improvised bath, tugging off his clothes and handing them one item at a time to the waiting Marty. Elizabeth quickly turned around, as proper decorum demanded, but she kept sneaking peeks at the man she had had to reject in order to be with Will, an interest in her eyes and a blush to her face. She was still far better off than the embarrassed man as Sparrow practically manhandled him into the barrel, not above using his wings to gain an advantage in physical strength and hight advantage that Norrington had on him. The younger male protested and cursed until he was dumped into the warm water, naked as the day he was born save for the black pearl he'd managed to snatch away from his breast pocket before his coat was taken from him. He nearly swallowed half of the water when Sparrow dunked his head to wash his face and hair out. It was far from a proper bath but it was taking layers upon layers of Tortuga grime and dirt off of him and he was already feeling more like himself. He stopped protesting only long enough to realize Elizabeth was still present before he gave a rather unmanly, scandalized yelp before dunking himself fully into the barrel, hiding in the water and holding his breath.

Jack sighed in exasperation before turning to address the lass. "Lizzie, go back to your own quarters. A barrel of warm water will be brought to you shortly. I can't let a Lady sit in her own grime. Mind, we won't be able to repeat this anytime soon, so do enjoy this one as much as you can." At her hesitation, he waved her off. "Don't worry. The forecastle cabin has a lock on the door and there are no cracks in my ship, so no one will be able to peek. Besides, Mr Gibbs will be making sure the crew's too busy to be naughty, so go enjoy yourself, luv."

That seemed enough to convince her and, with a last glance to where the two men were, she left, escorted by the first mate to the chambers he then explained had been given to Annamaria while _she_ had been on the Pearl. Reassured in knowing no one would dare peek in on the scary woman - she had a ship of her own now, imagine that! - Elizabeth relaxed into the warm water as soon as it arrived and she locked the door. This was real nice of Jack to do. She'll have to remember to thank him later. She was surprised that a smaller feast had been left for her, as well, having expected to share the food with Jack and James, but she didn't mind. She kicked back and enjoyed the dirt and swat washing off of her with the clean, warm water.

Back in the great cabin, Jack reached into the water to tug out James' head before the taller man drowned in the barrel. The gasping man looked around wildly and Jack just snorted at his Tutela's actions. "She's gone, mate. Now just lean back and-"

"I don't need your help," snapped the Commodore when Sparrow made to grab his shoulders. "Not only do I not want you touching my person, but I doubt that _you_ of all people know how to wash properly. You're not exactly the epitome of cleanliness."

Sparrow snorted at him before dragging Norrington boldly closer to where he was, reaching to comb his fingers through his unkempt hair. Predictably, the Englishman protested and tried to move away, ending up splashing a good amount of water onto the not amused Curatrix. He tugged harder and put a hand at the base of James' throat where it connected to his shoulder to demonstrate just _who_ was at a disadvantage here, even though he wouldn't do anything, but it was enough to make James stop. Jack sighed before resuming his earlier activity, startling James with how nice it felt to have those deft fingers coming through his wet hair, taking out anything that was stuck there, detangling knots and just smoothing it out.

"While I may not look like it, Commodore, I _do_ know what a proper wash is like. No matter what you think of me, mate," he said as he picked out a suspicious looking ... _something_ out of bleached brown hair that now looked more like caramel than the rich brown it had once been due to the exposure to the sun as opposed to being stuck under a bloody wig. "Remember that I am Captain Jack Sparrow. Not even Gibbs, my oldest of friends, knows everything about me. There are parts of my life that at times demand I look my best and just because you don't know about them doesn't mean they aren't there. And you _do_ need my help." As if to demonstrate this, he swiftly undid a knot that James would have otherwise have had to cut off completely had he been left to his own devices. "You're not the first person with long hair I had to wash after a tumble in some unsavory place. Don't ask about it, it's a long story I don't like talking abut. And no, it's not me I'm talking about. If I need me hair combed, I usually let Tia do it. Which is how I ended up with my hair like this in the first place." At the strange noise his Tutela made, Jack grinned fondly, not that James could see it. "Feels good, don't it?"

"You are surprisingly not bad at this," Norrington conceded, feeling himself relax under Jack's ministrations. The pirate hummed smugly but didn't say anything, secretly pleased by the compliment. Or as much of it as Norrington would ever give him. "Why you are doing all of this, though, escapes me."

Ah, his curiosity was peeked. Jack could live with that. "I figured I owed you and Lizzie, mate. She should be enjoying her wedding night by now - still don't know why she was arrested, though, or the whelp." At Norrington's incredulous look, Jack rolled his eyes. "I know why they were arrested, just not _why_ , savvy?" At the blank look, he sighed. "I trust you didn't write back home 'bout my escape, aye?"

"Not in detail, no." The younger man replied, not seeing yet where Jack was going with this.

"Then how the bloody hell did anyone find out they helped me escape if no one outside of Port Royal knows the truth?" The Captain of the Black Pearl asked, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. James paused, thinking it over. "The good Gov'nor wouldn't risk his daughter hanging even if he _were_ to say something 'bout the whelp and I doubt any of your men would go behind your back just to send word to King and country. So how'd they find out? _Who_ found out, is what _I'd_ like to know, if you don't mind. I knew very well not only pirates had spies all over."

"I see your point." How indeed did anyone find out about Sparrow escaping. No one in Port Royal had been eager to see the Curatrix hang. Bad luck. Folktales and gibberish or not, no one would have wanted to be associated with the death of a Curatrix and there were only so few people who would give one up for experimentation. That was cruel than any punishment a Curatrix could be put through.

"So I need to figure out who sussed them out, who arrested them and a way to get their normal lives back. 'Tis what I owe the whelps. You, on the other hand." His own still and his voice is quieter, ringing with sincerity and apology. "I overheard what you said. I didn't expect you to follow us at Tripoli and for what happened, for what I unknowingly caused, I _am_ sorry."

That had Norrington stiffening, anger rising inside of him again. He moved away from Sparrow, disgusted with himself for even allowing the man responsible for his misery to touch him like this at all. How weak he was. How pathetic. He did not want Sparrow's pity or his charity. He did nothing when he heard the other man sigh and move away. He honestly wanted nothing to do with Sparrow, certainly not to continue their rather interesting conversation or listen to that hidden intelligence speaking from within a foolish mask. No, it was he who is a fool, not the pirate, for it is he who had sailed straight into a hurricane on a ship that had no hope of surviving it.

He waited until Sparrow got the hint and left, but the man lingered in the cabin for a little longer, rustling some cloth or something. "Just ... " He heard another sigh as the door towards the deck opened. "Just eat something, mate. You look like the wind could blow you over."

Indignant, Norrington whirled around to give the infuriating mockery of human kind a piece of his mind, but Sparrow was already out of the door, closing it firmly behind himself, leaving the ex Commodore to his grumbling self. Snarling to himself, James continued washing his own hair, growling when it did not feel even half as good as it had when Sparrow had been doing it. Disgusted with himself, James finished his impromptu bath far quicker than he had intended. He peered at the dirty water left behind and couldn't help but be grateful Sparrow for this much. However, his forgiveness and his favor could not be bought and Norrington with dignity and arrogance sniffed. That, however, brought to his attention the meal Sparrow had left out for him and he made to walk over and examine the food. Perhaps it was all a ploy to drug or kill him and then throw him overboard for the fishes.

Stepping closer to the table, though, required stepping out from behind the privacy screen and James remembered he was naked as the day he was born and growled. So humiliation it was. He would apparently have to go hunt down that little dwarf of a man Sparrow had his crew in order to get his clothes back-

Only there was a clean shirt and brown breeches, a little tight for him no doubt, waiting for him on a chest just beyond the privacy screen with a not with his former scribbled on it. It even said it was only temporary, until his clothing was 'taken care of'. Sparrow had better not thrown it overboard. Still, better this than going around naked. He dressed and finally approached the tempting food, finding it of a far better quality than he had expected. There was no alcohol, though, not that James was complaining. Alcohol had apparently made his bond with his Curatrix hazy enough that neither had felt the other properly, if the relief from the other end meant anything at all. He ate some of the fresh bread, surprised it was still warm - so much better than the stale kind he had had to contend with in Tortuga unless he wanted to give up the rest of his money - enjoying how crusty it was on the outside and soft on the inside before taking a deep gulp of fresh water. He then turned his attention to the chicken legs, taking one and sinking into it like a starved man. There was also some soup, pork if he had to guess, which was just divine. There were even some freshly baked potatoes!

Well, he might be pissed with Sparrow and still a tad too prideful for a man in his position, but he was not foolish enough to ignore the first proper meal that had come his way in far too long.

By the time he was finished, he felt really sleepy, his stomach finally content as it started working through real food and nutrition and not just stupid rum, stake bread and the rare fish he could afford or catch. He leaned back with a sigh and took out the black pearl he had been keeping hidden all this time. He rolled it around between thumb and forefinger, marveling at it like almost every time he did when he took hold of it. Fascinating, how so small a thing could have so much power and meaning as to bind two complete strangers to each other on such an intimate level. He had hoped to have had found his soulmate by now, found his Curatrix and tucked him away from the world and those who seek to take him and use him for their own gain. Selfish, yes, especially if his Jack was so important as that Gypsy woman, Madam Blackwild, had made him out to be.

But Tutela were never said to be required to be some self sacrificing, extremely good and generous people just like Curatrix are not sinless, angelic creatures. Tutela were normal people, of any upbringing, breeding, way of life or profession. Curatrix, just as much, can come from anywhere. For all that Angels were their distant relatives, they shared rare few traits beyond their wings, their powerful charm and their mostly pretty appearance.

Yes, Curatrix were pretty people, and yes, James could not deny that Sparrow was one of the prettier guardians he had seen. Exotic, handsome with just a touch of beauty that would have been feminine to his face had he not had that silly beard and mustache, lean built, narrow waist, sashaying hips and almost hypnotic black eyes always rimmed with black kohl ... Yes, Sparrow was a _very_ pretty individual and Norrington was not ashamed to say he had been checking out his ass the last time he had seen the Curatrix. He couldn't do it this time since the man was wearing his bloody coat.

 _'I must have spent too much time in Tortuga if I'm thinking like a horny sailor. Or teenager.'_ Yet that disgraceful thought was also not enough to deter him. Elizabeth Swann and Jack Sparrow were a lot alike, although neither seemed to realize it. Both wanted freedom above all else, only Elizabeth either hadn't realized it or chose not to. After all, if she knew what she wanted, it only made sense that she should pursue it and yet she did not. Maybe she was afraid to? But when she let herself forget completely her way of life off of a ship, Elizabeth was much like Jack: free as a bird (and yes, he did notice that both their last names were bird species), un-tamable, fierce, scary (Sparrow did it only when he wanted to) and very manipulative. They were both rather dangerous and that danger is what made Norrington notice them. It was what had caught his eye with Elizabeth. He was intrigued, but not really in love like Turner was.

No, his love belonged to his Curatrix.

He can't deny that he'd felt attraction towards others, though, especially the two birds in his life. He could admit to wanting a romp with Sparrow but something warned him from indulging himself. As though that act would lead to something he was not yet ready for. As though that would be too much and too little all at once. Like he'd want more and more and would never be able to get enough. Like he'd _need_ more. That's not something he could allow himself to have with Sparrow of all people.

But did that mean he wanted it?

James shook his head. Absurd. All he wanted was his life back, as it was and had always been, with the exception of having his guardian there, right next to him. Sparrow had no place in his life and neither did Elizabeth or such wonderings. The second he had let Elizabeth go so she can marry Turner was the moment he had decided he would not seek out a partner outside of his soulmate. And the second he had let Sparrow go and regretted it, he had shoved all possibilities of a tumble in the sheets with the man out of his head. They still occurred from time to time, when he heard those doxies in Tortuga gossiping about sharing a bed together with a Curatrix - he had found out that Jack was not just some random regular customer, but their protector as well, having taken that blond in the yellow dress and that redhead in the red dress that always slapped him when he's in port under his wing for some reason they would not share with anyone. Sparrow was so odd - and how one night with Sparrow will change your life, as it's never enough.

He wondered if Sparrow knew _his_ Jack. They were both bound to have at least _heard_ of each other, being probably the only ones to have such enormous wings. Or had his Jack's not grown much from their young six feet span? He regretted that these bonds that connected a Curatrix and a Tutela could not allow open communication, like talking into each other's minds or something. That would have been extremely useful. He could have asked his guardian all these questions that were bugging him and actually get to know the boy-no-doubt-by-now-a-grown-man that his soul was irrevocably tied to.

The black pearl nearly slipped from his fingers when his eyes suddenly dropped, too heavy to keep them open. Truthfully, he was exhausted. It was not easy to sleep in Tortuga. It had taken him two weeks to finally be tired enough to just collapse when he first got there and he had ended up thrown into mud - thankfully not the pigsty right off. Apparently, the dwellers of Tortuga were deprived of _that_ kind of fun no matter how much other types of fun were around. They needed a chance to pull pranks and be mischievous - or cruel, but those tended to do worse things and avoided James like the plague since he was always so pissy and they were cowards. Usually, the cruel ones were the most cowardly and they hid that by showing their fake power to others to seem stronger in order to fend off the bigger 'predators' - and that type of 'prank' was a local favorite. Whoever fell asleep was bound to end up that way. As a result, James had had to learn to only doze off for certain amounts of time or he had to search real hard for a safe place to fall nearly comatose with sleep.

That had not always been in his favor either, so he had instead trained himself to wake up at the slightest sound or touch. Unfortunately, that meant he usually snapped right awake with every stronger breeze or a sound that did not follow the usual pattern.

In short, he got very little sleep.

Here, he was at least sure he was _somewhat_ safe. It was considered bad luck to just kill someone on a ship for no reason, or at least he thinks it is. He'd have to ask Mr Gibbs about it. He knows stuff like that. Besides, Elizabeth wouldn't allow it either, he was sure.

That established, James wrapped the black pearl in his fist and fell promptly asleep over the table, dead to the world and for the first time relaxed enough to dream of white-brown-gold-black wings and a warm smile.


	16. Chapter 16

Jack Sparrow carefully snuck into his own grand cabin when he finally felt his Tutela fall asleep, feeling a little guilty for putting the faintest bit of sleeping draughts into the soup. It had been needed and he didn't regret it, as Norrington felt worn to the bone and ready to snap. He was like a candle lit to burn on both ends and Jack had been worried sick for him as soon as he had realized just how _tired_ his charge was. But he knew Norrington would never relax enough on a pirate ship to sleep for long, even with sleeping draughts, especially since Jack planned to use the smallest of dozes - he wanted it to seem like a natural sleep, not potions and drugs. That would just get him in more trouble later.

So he had organized for a feast like meal to be brought to his cabin - out of his own pocket, of course ... Or rather to pocket of some unsuspecting poor sod who had dared fall asleep in the docks of Tortuga. Poor, poor sod. Well, finders keepers and all that - along with a heated barrel of clean water. They had enough of the stuff to last them weeks and even more rum. Two baths won't mean much. They can always restock on some island on the way, if it is needed. His plan had worked. Somewhat. He thinks. James _had_ started relaxing and they had even had a constructive, engaging conversation until James had pulled away and would not even look at him. His own fault, of course, for bringing up his dead crew, his sunk ship and his relatively ruined career.

Jack, knowing his Tutela had a right to be angry, had left him to his thoughts - and hopefully to the food - going up to the quarterdeck to pout. Mr Cotton was a godsend, since he couldn't say anything due to him being essentially a mute, and his smartass parrot didn't have enough words and phrases in its vocabulary to make a comment for him. Not that the old sailor was nearly as sassy as his pet bird. That feathered demon, for all that it was somewhat kin to Jack by way of wings and flight, was a real handful. At least Jack the undead cursed monkey was gone and could no longer terrorize him. That was definitely a plus.

His Pearl, angry with his Tutela again, sang to him to keep his attention on her. She was possessive and jealous like that. He was hers as much as she was his and he didn't mind that. She was always preferable company to any of the others on the ship, even his Tutela. At least for the moment. He hoped one day that he can have them both and not worry about losing either of them or them somehow having silent duels for his attention and affection when his back was turned. That aught to be an interesting sight, if it were ever possible to happen. He knew sooner or later, James will want off and to go do whatever it is that he wants to do in life and they'd be separated again. He tried not to be bitter about it but, judging from his lady love's huff, he wasn't exactly succeeding.

When he finally felt Norrington drift off to sleep, he sighed in relief and waited for the sleep to get a bit deeper before daring to venture into his own quarters. He frowned at the position his Tutela is but dared not try to move him. He knew the type of influence Tortuga can have on a man's sleeping habits, but he _was_ able to mask his presence by continually sending waves of warmth, affection and _safety_ to his charge as he crept closer and put a blanket over his shoulders. He examined the food the younger had ate and nodded in satisfaction. Good. The other had lost some weight and Jack will gladly fatten him up again to how he was before. It was not healthy to be too thin.

If anyone ever dared say anything about his own build, he will shot them like he used to shoot the undead monkey. He was just lean.

He was about to go to his own cabin to sleep when he heard the door slowly creaking open and he had to rush over there to stop whoever was entering from waking his Tutela from his much needed sleep. Thankfully, it was only Gibbs with James' washed clothing and he kept quite while Jack put them away, right in front of Norrington so he wouldn't miss them when he woke up, before hurrying back over to the waiting Gibbs. They both exited the cabin just as quietly as they had entered, Jack still sending warmth and safety to his Tutela and James barely stirred. Once outside, they both relaxed and Joshamee Gibbs gave his Captain a sad, stern and apologetic look all rolled into one. He leaned in so only Jack could hear him as he lowly said his piece.

"I know he's yer charge, Capt'n, but now's not the time to be actin' all guardian-like, if you don't mind me sayin'. The instinct is strong, I wager, but ye won't do 'im any good by dyin' now. We need you to focus on finding the chest."

Jack nodded to show he understood his friend's worries but Gibbs knew he won't just stop. "I'll tone it down until we're in the safe but he really needed me just right now, Josh. He's been pulled in too many directions and he was ready to snap."

"I'm just sayin', Capt'n. It would be for the best if no one suspects nothing 'bout your relationship, though."

"It would have been best if he had never joined the crew." And they both knew it. Good sailor or not, Norrington will never content to serve on a pirate ship and he might cause some trouble when he wakes up in the morning. Jack won't have any choice than to lock him in the brig if he becomes too much of a bother and ignore every screaming atom of his Curatrix side demanding he not do it. It was going to be a tough couple of days, it would seem. The race, the search, the beastie, the Commodore. Jack's life had never been _this_ complicated before!

Well, that was a lie but let's not go there, shall we? Very good.

He sighed and opted to fly to the porthole of his cabin and just get through there to his own sleeping chambers. It was going to be a _long_ couple of days.

00000

Norrington glared at the spot in front of him. He was on his hands and knees, dressed once again in his own clothes - which had most of the mud washed out of them, by some miracle; not all of it, mind you. These pirates obviously didn't have enough soap for that, if any at all. At least it no longer stank - but head bare except for his own hair, tied back by a single black hair tie, scrubbing the deck with a heavy, big brush. He had been scrubbing this very spot for the past hour and this one damned stain the size of a man's head _refused_ to let up. If anything, James swore it was laughing at him.

Just then, Sparrow passed by on his way over to what was currently their navigator on the steps that led up to the forecastle deck and saw the big stain on his beloved ship's deck. He clicked his tongue and pointed out to Norrington - rather needlessly - that he had missed a spot and nearly flinched at the glare sent his way. He was about to ask what had the other in so foul a mood - he had had a decent breakfast from what Jack had seen when he had returned to his cabin after his turn at the wheel sometime after dawn and he had slept through the night - when he heard his lady love giggling. He sent her a reprimanding nudge before focusing back on the glaring ex officer.

"Finish that up. I need you up in the rigging. Those big legs of yours should help you climb up faster than Mr Marty and I doubt you don't know how to mend a sail in flight."

"Yes, _Captain_ ," Norrington snapped before returning to the stain. Jack, with a warning to the Black Pearl not to agitate his Tutela - this was her way of vengeance for nearly shooting him - returned to his initial course, interested when he saw Elizabeth now standing and waiting for him, some ... suspiciously _official_ looking papers in a leather envelope in her hand. She had a serious expression on her face that did not bode well for him. _'Bugger.'_ He just had to go and ruin his own morning, didn't he.

Norrington, meanwhile returned to the stain that had been mocking him since early this morning, finding it now was giving way surprisingly easily. As if somehow, by magic maybe, Sparrow had been keeping the deck intentionally dirty just to anger him and now finally got bored of the joke. Bastard. However, he became grateful that he had stayed where he was for so long, as he was now close enough to hear the _interesting_ conversation Sparrow, Gibbs and Elizabeth were having.

"These Letters of Marque are supposed to go to me, are they not?"

"Jack, give those back!" Elizabeth insisted, obviously wanting them for herself and for Turner. But the words 'Letters of Marque' rang in Norrington's head on repeat like church bells in the night and he stopped working to hear them better.

Sparrow freezes, eyes trained on the bottom. "There's a signature." Now that was interesting. The Letters of Marque were usually signed by an authority only _after_ the one who it is intended for signs it first. Why does Sparrow sound so apprehensive about that?

"Yes, they are signed." Elizabeth responds irritably. "Sir Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company." James pauses, trying to connect the name with a face. If he remembers correctly, it is a man ten years his senior, of rather short stature but big ambitions.

Gibbs looks uncertainly and fearfully at Jack, who grabs hold of his wrist where he had been branded thirteen years ago. He makes a face of disgust that says everything he feels and thinks about Beckett. A shudder even runs through his body as he remembers all of his ... creepy encounters with the man. "Aaah, Beckett." He had been such a naive fool as to think he can belong to 'civilized' society. A privateer maybe a pirate but with the Crown's protection but Jack could never be anything like a slave trader. Beckett had set the challenge and Jack taken it up, but not in the way the short man had expected.

The Pearl hissed in displeasure, her sails fluttering ominously and Jack's flag whipped around before it settled again.

Figures Beckett would come for him when he was in the middle of the mess _he_ had started in the first place.

"Will was working for Beckett and never said a word of it." Gibbs sounded indignant and angry, having trusted the boy. Turner could not have betrayed them more than had he stolen the Compass and ran off- the Compass! "Beckett wants the Compass! Only one reason he would want the Compass-"

"He's after the Chest." Jack confirmed, cutting in, eyes daring Elizabeth to hide something from him now or lie to him. Cutler Beckett was one evil he would loath to face even more than the Locker and his two friends from Port Royal had practically led him straight to Jack. He was suddenly far less in the mood to be overly worried for the two lovebirds.

"Yes, Beckett did say something about a chest," the young woman wisely admitted at the looks on both pirates faces. Jack looked almost as dangerous as he had when he had shot Barbossa. She would rather not face that side of his ire. She shrank under their gazes. Norrington's ears perked. He thought he heard an opportunity knocking.

"If the Company controls the Chest, they'll control the sea!" Gibbs warns Jack vehemently and utterly needlessly, as Jack above all others knew about the powers of Davy Jones.

He was angry and Elizabeth could see it in the way he was looking at her. "A discomforting notion." Even his voice was tight and controlled, a sure sign he was angry.

"And bad!" She winced when Gibbs practically yelled it in her ear, trying to accent the gravity of the situation with bad dramatics. "Bad for every mother's son what calls himself 'pirate'!" He looks worriedly at Jack before, at his nod, headss off, looking up at the sails. "I think there's a bit more speed that can be coaxed out of these sails." He starts shouting orders. Jack and Elizabeth watch him go before the Curatrix turns on the lady.

"May I inquire how you came by these?" He takes a step forward, unintentionally trying to corner and intimidate her and she does her best not to be either, but she still takes an involuntary step back when he gets too close. He was suddenly very flippant on the matter when just seconds ago, he had been so _angry._ She didn't trust this change.

"Persuasion," she answers vaguely, eying him shrewdly.

"Friendly?" He challenges.

"Not in the least." Is her reply.

"Funny thing," he leans back, suddenly too distant. "Will strikes a deal for these and upholds it with honor. And yet you're the one standing here with the prize." She's taken aback, as always, when he shows the sharper side of his intellect that he usually hides. "Full pardon ... Commission as a privateer on the behalf if England and the East India Trading Company," he reads disinterestedly, but that has Norrington listening as though God himself had spoken the words. Sparrow stuffs the letters into one of his endless, countless pockets, scuffing. "As if I can be bought and for such a low price." Both residents of Port Royal realized belatedly he had not meant those words for Elizabeth at all. It was as though they were directed at someone else. And they were. But the next ones were for the woman. "It's a fate worse than death." He looked at her with somber eyes. "Living a life like that."

She hesitates before trying to get the letters back. "Jack, the letters. If you don't want them, give them back?" She had meant it as an order but it came out more as a plea than anything. She and Will needed those. They weren't like Jack! Piracy would not be a calling they could embrace so easily!

"Persuade me," Jack replied, leaning in predatorily close before turning around and walking away a few steps. Elizabeth followed after him, not sure if she meant her next words as a threat or as an innuendo to entertain him enough to give them back.

"You know, Will taught me how to handle a sword."

Jack, however, was not affected by an innocent lady's attempts at seduction, especially not with his Tutela just a few feet away. He turned around and gave her a sharp smile. "As I said: persuade me." With that, he bopped her nose to signal her he saw her as a child and would as such not be seduced by her charms, smiled a gentler smile before turning around and marching away.

Elizabeth groaned in frustration and glared after him before a smile reluctantly and defiantly tugged at her lips and she turned around, leaning on a railing. She's a little flushed and biting her lip to stop the smile from spreading further. She is startled out of her rewire of their playful banter - although he had been harsher with her right now than he ever had before - when none other than Norrington comes to lean his back and elbows on the railing beside her.

"It's a curious thing." He tells her. "There was a time I would have given almost anything for you to look like that while thinking of me." Which was exactly why they were best off as friends. _Almost_ anything.

She's a little flustered, though, to be accused of having feelings for Jack when she was to marry Will. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do," he tells her with a knowing look in his eyes.

She looks away so she would't accidentally blush when it was not true. "Don't be absurd. I just trust him, is all." Not to mention she was still fairly certain that he was her Curatrix. She wondered just where he hid the cream colored diamond that would be a twin to her's.

"Ah," the way he says it makes her understand he does not believe her in the slightest and she glares at his back as he turns to leave but stops and turns back to her, stating it as though it were an afterthought. "Did you never wonder how your latest fiancée ended up on the Flying Dutchman in the first place?" Pleased with the shocked look on her face and the chaos it was bound to cause for Sparrow, James went back to his spot on the deck so he can finish cleaning the stain and actually do some productive sailing. However, much to his horror, chagrin, confusion, frustration and anger, when he got back, the dirty stain was somehow bigger and darker, mocking him with just its impossible existence while the Black Pearl thrummed with satisfaction and glee at making his life hell with that simple task.

She fairly laughed manically when she frightened a passing seagull into pooping on his head.

00000

On the Flying Dutchman, that night, Will was making his grand theft and escape with the help of his father who was now, due to both of their damned bad luck and worse gambling skills, cursed to serve an eternity on the plague ship. It had been no easy task to get the key out of the sleeping Captain's tentacles but, with a few clever maneuvers, William the Second had managed. However, that meant leaving his father behind to be punished but he knew he had to leave. His father had survived this long; he can survive a few days longer until he somehow tricks Jack into either giving himself up to Jones in exchange for his father or getting the heart from him and _making_ Jones release his father.

He had vowed that he will free his father, whatever it takes, when taking Bootstrap's offered knife on his departure. He was not a man to break his word. However, there was a promise he _would_ break and it was the other promise he had made his father. Turner Senior had all but begged his son not to be angry with Jack. Will could not do that. Rage flowed through him like a fiery river at the mere _thought_ of the Captain of the Black Pearl. He was _disgusted_ by what Jack had let happen and he will confront the man about it as soon as he caught up.

His Curatrix or not.

For now, he had to focus on getting as far away from the monster crewed ship as fast as he can.


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning found Jack baffled at Elizabeth's behavior. He swore she was almost as flirty as a dock doxie in Tortuga in heat and that was a disconcerting thought. Hadn't he told her yesterday that she cannot seduce him? His approach had been innocent enough. She had been sulking all morning and he had come with the peace offering of rum - in case he had truly angered her yesterday during their little tete-a-tete - and asked, in his eccentric, roundabout way, if she was alright. That, unfortunately, started the marriage discussion and she had taken his offer to marry her - to Will, mind you, as soon as they get the whelp back - as an invitation to start first insulting and then trying to flirt with him. Young Turner better watch out for this one, she had more pirate in her than William did. Either of 'em!

He had decided playing along with her game wasn't a bad way to pass time. He can bicker with his beloved ship only so long before someone thinks he's even crazier than they all already thought and as fun as letting them believe _that_ was, he did not need a mutiny due to dubious leadership. He hoped, if it came to that, that they'd at least be kind enough to maroon him. He'd at least be safe from Jones, as he'd be on land, and he can always find another way to bring his ship back. A few certain people owed him favors. She'd probably throw him off by herself, anyway, if she gets the chance.

"You'll come over to my side, in time." He teased with a flirty smirk. It's been a while since he'd done this out of pure fun with no other meaning to it or expectations afterwards. He was quite enjoying himself, sparring wits with the lady. "I know it."

"You seem quite certain." Jack wanted to snort at that. She was a bloody pirate, almost as much as himself was. However, his argument was a little bit different, as he knew she'd only get offended at being called out on her true nature. Most people are, anyway, as far as he had learned in his life.

"One word, luv." He replied smoothly. "Curiosity." He moves closer to her, looming over Elizabeth by the half head or so he's taller than her. She had to raise her head a little in order for their eyes to meet at this proximity. "You long for freedom." He whispered knowingly, for no one would be as excited with flight if they did not long for the freedom that it affords. "To do what you want because you want it. To act on selfish impulses." He leaned in a little closer, his voice going lower and Elizabeth's eyes fluttered. The swan intimidated by the little sparrow. "You want to see what it's like." He got out of her personal space and leaned his back on the railing of his beloved vessel when her breath hitched. "Someday, you won't be able to resist." No more than any other pirate had been. He felt rather smug at the long moment of silence before she gathered herself enough to form a reply.

"Why doesn't your Compass work?"

That threw him off. Mostly because it was an outright _wronghood_. "My Compass works just fine." He said defensively, no longer in a playful mood. He was half tempted to ask for it back but he knew only Elizabeth can find the chest right now.

"Because you and I _are_ alike." Like she had heard Curatrix and Tutela to be. Not in everything, but they _were_ practically soulmates and soulmates _had_ to have something in common, right? "And there will come a moment when you get to show it. To do the _right_ _thing_." She follows him when he moves further away while answering.

"I love those moments. I love to wave them as they pass by." This was getting ridiculous. He had more important things to worry about than some spoiled lady thinking she can play pirate and seduction with him. He was a _Curatrix_ and, although she didn't know, his _Tutela_ was _right there_.

She either ignored his reply or decided it was not important. Equally rude and annoying, that. "You will have a chance to do something brave. Something daring. And in that moment you will realize something important." He gives her an exasperated look she also chooses to ignore. "That you are a good man."

Jack couldn't help but snort at that one. Weak argument, weaker motivation behind it, seeing as where she was coming from. Been there, done that, look where it got him now. He'll stick to his current way of life, thanks. "All evidence points to the contrary, luv."

She wasn't deterred and instead came even closer. Maybe she would have been tempting in some other situation, but with his Jamie practically within arm's reach, he could have not had any in twenty years and her seduction would not have worked. "I have faith in you. Do you know why?" His only response to her? An arched eyebrow. She took it as enough and continued. " _Curiosity_." That had him in an even less pleasant mood. He really was no longer up to playing games. He had felt a sharp jolt go through his wings, a sure sign one of his protectees was in danger. Seeing as who was placed in a most perilous position, be had no doubt it was the whelp. And here was his lovely future wife, flirting with another man. Lovely.

Elizabeth, however, counted this as a strike for her and just continued, their faces mere inches apart and getting closer by the second. "You're going to want it. A chance to be admired," she said, their breaths intermingling and her heart couldn't help but beat a little faster. She had only ever kissed Will before and she couldn't help but wonder what Jack's kiss would taste like. This was as much temptation for her as it was for him. "And gain the rewards that follow." Surely kissing your guardian felt exquisite. "You won't be able to resist. You'll want to know what it tastes like."

At her final step closer, that was the step too far where Jack was concerned and he took hold of her shoulder to stop her, taking a step back just to make sure he had increased the distance enough. "I _do_ know what it tastes like. I've tasted every version of it and I rarely find it wanting. But you mustn't forget, Lizzie, that you talk without knowing what you're speaking. What you're trying to offer has very little meaning to me where _curiosity_ is concerned. I've ... _tasted_ it and I'm quite full, thanks."

"What?" Was all the confused Elizabeth could utter, stunned when Jack moved further back, taking his hand away. Had she done something wrong? She had thought she had this in the bag, that she could get him to give her back the Letters of Marque and maybe even admit to what he had done to her poor Will.

"Lizzie, I am a Curatrix." He told her carefully. "I've saved more lives with my mere presence than most would think. I've been part of grand battles where my madness had somehow saved boatloads of lives and I've seen more than you can imagine, luv. Believe me," he stressed these two words by taking hold of both of her shoulders but yet still keeping his distance. "Besides offering me my Tutela, there is _nothing_ you could offer me to tempt me into dancing to your tune. Now, run along, now. Give us our heading so we may save young William."

"Jack. Jack, I'm sorry for trying to trick you," she grabbed hold of his left wrist when he turned to move away again. "Just ... Give us back the Letters of Marque. I won't even ask for your Compass. Just give me the Letters."

The Captain regarded her seriously, black eyes flashing. "Believe me when I tell you that you don't want those Letters, lass. Beckett's not the type of person you want to be making deals with." Desperate and thinking he was only playing one of his games again, Elizabeth lunged for him, knocking him painfully on the black deck, his shoulder blades stinging in protest. Not that he had the time to contemplate his pain, as she was rummaging through his coat, searching for the Letters. He gave a panicked yelp when she grabbed hold of one of the items he hid there and used his superior strength to roll them over, taking the damned papers out of their hiding place at the same time, ready to throw them overboard, only to freeze when a cold, dreadful chill ran down the length of his body. He let go of the letters as though burned, jumping away from the girl as though she might have the plague, looking at the palm of his until recently restrained hand. "Fine. You want the Letters? To be Beckett's little puppets? Fine! Have them. Not like I care."

He scurried away from the stunned woman and raced for his cabin. Trust the whelp to mess up so badly that he cost him a day. _'Should've just called in a favor with the girls,'_ he thought bitterly as he found a rag he can wrap around his palm, which was once again intruded upon by the Black Spot. The Black Pearl gave a worried shimmy and he reassured her by patting a wall as he hurried around the cabin, preparing for the worst. He heard a call of "Land, ho!" up on deck and nearly whimpered. "I want my jar of dirt."

00000

The rowing to Isla Cruces, as Jack recognized it, was done by Pintel and Ragetti and filled with their bickering about their rowing technique and the right pronunciation of the name of the beastie. Jack couldn't repress each of his winces at the mention of the creature and wondered helplessly whether or not Jones was pissed enough to send it out on the hunt despite wanting Jack's Curatrix powers all to his onesies. Elizabeth and James were watching with interest the way their Captain was acting and wondered what suddenly had him so jumpy. Despite all that they have seen, both were still strangely skeptical about the existence of a giant squid that could sink entire ships all by itself.

Wanting to get rid of some of the stress, Jack left Pintel and Ragetti to mind the boat, watch the tides and made sure they did not so much as _think_ about touching his jar of dirt or the jacket he left behind. He had a bad, foreboding feeling in his gut and there were some very powerful treasures in his pockets that someone like Jones should never get a hold of. If something were to happen to him, Gibbs at least knows that the jacket is meant to go to Tia Dalma and will make sure she gets it, even if he doesn't know the precise reason why. The voodoo swamp woman will probably then send the jacket itself to his Da in Shipwreck Cove so the man has something of his son's, since he rather doubted anything else of him will remain if the beastie catches up.

Taking two shovels and shoving them both at Norrington, Jack then indicated with an impatient, flippant-seeming gesture for Elizabeth to lead the way while trying internally to block all correspondences to his Tutela so James won't feel his unease. The walk wasn't overly long or tiring. It was a relatively small island and within five to ten minutes at most, Elizabeth was walking in circles around a small part of the beach, Norrington and Sparrow watching her with disinterest and expectation respectively. The Curatrix felt something come from his Pearl, something like an impatient huff, and looked off in her direction, somehow finding it in himself to tease her about bad habits she was picking up from their young friends. As such, he missed when Elizabeth thought the Compass was pointing at him and huffed, slumping on the ground in a very unladylike fashion, throwing the Compass to the ground and crossing her arms like a petulant child.

"It doesn't work!" She looked accusingly at Jack. "And it certainly doesn't show you what you want most." Jack looks indignant that she was starting this again and shot Norrington a dirty glare when the younger man gave him a knowing look.

"It works just fine."

"It doesn't work for _you_ so why would it for anyone else?"

Jack growled, annoyed. "It works. It just can't show me what I want most because I suddenly want what my heart wants - my ship, my freedom, my Tutela, maybe some rum but that's usually the easiest to deal with - and then what my _head_ wants because I know I need it - in this case, the chest, the key and possibly Tia Dalma or me Da to chase captain squid-face away."

She picks it up, turns it this way and that, before throwing it on the ground again as if it were a worthless toy. Jack's actually tempted to twak her over the head. "It doesn't work."

He sighs, about to start a rant about the magical properties of his Compass when he glances down and sees the needle pointing to Elizabeth. Or rather, her bum. Or even more specifically, _beneath_ her bum. A grin splits his face, half relieved, half smug. "Yes it does." She looks up but he beats her to the next words. "You're sitting on it."

"Beg pardon?" She asked incredulously, but he just makes shooing motions and whistles at Norrington to start digging in the place she had been sitting. James gives him an unimpressed look but the Commodore at least gets right to it. He and Elizabeth take a few steps back and just watch. Feeling on edge even more than before, Jack resorts to a method of relaxation he had learned in the east, sitting down cross legged, arms resting loosely on his knees, eyes closed and he let his senses extend as far as they would go.

The sea was restless beneath the waves. It was never a good thing when something as old as mother nature itself was restless or uneasy. Rare few would be able to see or detect it, especially not as easily as Jack could, but they didn't have as deep a bond with it, either. He had bonds and links with various sea dwellers and so he had been taught how to see, read and interpret the changes in the sea. You could almost say he could _communicate_ with the huge body of salt water and it wouldn't be too wrong. Out of the ten most influential beings in the sea, he had struck up close relationships with three, was acquaintances with two, had met four and was in the shit books of only one while the rest he had not met at all. You could guess who that last one was and he won't be telling who the three he was close friends with were, either. But he was too late to call two of those friends - they'd need a little bit too much time to get to him to help at all - and the closest one who would no doubt be of the most help was literally not able to do much since her hands were pretty much more than effectively tied.

With the sea itself restless, his Black Pearl was not exactly content, either. They were both getting warnings to stay away and that could only bode ill for them both seeing as who was after them.

He was startled out of his meditation when James' shovel hit something with a dull but loud and ringing sound, stopping the man in his tracks with bewilderment. Elizabeth, who had been fidgeting about and pacing by this point, also stopped and together, she, Jack and James dropped to their knees. They quickly cleared up the last of the sand on the lid of a big, dark wood and steel chest before Sparrow hauled it out with the help of Norrington. The thing was heavy enough to give one man problems but this was not the chest they were looking for, as it had an ordinary lock that Jack got rid of with a simple twist of some thin string of metal he always had on his person ever since that day Doggy ran scared with the keys. It was usually a little better for shackles than for cell locks but this lock was easy enough to get rid of. When they opened the chest, it was filled to the brim with letters, some of which Elizabeth took in hand to better examine. Love letters, between Jones and his beloved. Jack didn't need to look at the handwriting or the crab-shaped-heart-like seal to know who it was from. Besides, he wasn't interested in finding out just what two sexually deprived sea dwellers talked about in private letters. That just promised to give him nightmares! He didn't want to be put off by sex for the rest of his life, thank you very much.

He reached inside beneath the letters, groping around until he found what he was hoping to find. He traced the edges of the object until he found what must be handles and he quickly grasped them, pulling out a chest with no ceremony at all. Less than two feet long, a little more than a foot high, the Dead Man's Chest is bound in iron and inlaid with dark pearls, looking impenetrable. In the front, facing the trio, was a disproportionally large lock in the shape of a heart with a face and two crab pincers over it that, when unlocked, _do_ indeed make the lock look like a crab. It had all been done with great detail and a careful hand. There was only one way to open this chest and it was with the key that went to it. The only one. No copy can fool the magic protecting the Dead Man's Chest.

His two younger companions, stunned and exhilarated, follow Jack when he leans down to press an ear to the chest. Black eyes blink as they meet green so close. Jack and James just stare at each other, entranced by the other's eyes, the world fading into the background as the ancient magics that bound their souls together long before they were born sparked between them, doing their thing. Without being aware of it, they had began itching closer when what they had been waiting for occurred and it reached their ears, somehow unnaturally loud as it reminded them just _what_ they were here for.

A single, strong _beat_ came from the chest.

It was a heartbeat.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On this fine day, some twenty one odd years ago, give or take a few hours, this author has been born. And so, in honor of this fine day, I give you .... Two chapters in one day!

As soon as all three heard the beat, they drew back away from the chest, startled, relieved, disbelieving and finally believing, exhilarated, a little disgusted by the implications of what waited beyond the lid and altogether _proud_ to have found that which no one else has ever found. They stare at the Dead Man's Chest for a long moment before they grinned at each other, glee winning out, almost childish if not for the reason why they all needed the chest in the first place.

"It's real," Elizabeth breathed, still not quite able to believe it herself despite having heard the beat of the heart within the chest with her own ears.

"You were actually telling the truth," James said, catching the attention of the other two but he was only aware of the black eyes on him now. There had coursed a strange, tingling electric-like sensation through him just moment earlier, when he and Sparrow had locked eyes and been close enough that their breaths mingled and washed over the each other's face. He wasn't sure why he was reacting like this but he was sure he wanted to act on some strange, foolish, rash impulse for once and drag the slighter man towards him then and there. And for the first time not because he wanted to get back at Sparrow and hurt him for leading him into the hurricane. The only thing stopping him was that thought of _that_ happenstance and the fact that there was a chance of redemption right next to his knees. It was either Sparrow right in front of him or the chest, a little to the right. He had chosen.

"I actually do that quite a lot and yet people are always that surprised." Jack replied, aware both Norrington and Elizabeth were watching him when a new voice called out, snapping all of their attentions to someone and something else other than the chest or each other.

"With good reason!" A drenched, tired looking Will Turner called as he stumbled through the sand towards them. He looked like he had swam the distance from a ship to land and he was just as out of breath as though it had indeed been so. The way he held himself, though, Jack recognized and grimaced. That was a recently flogged man right there. It was in the way he held his back. He was going to kill that bastard Jones for what he'd done to not one, but _two_ of his protectees. He even had the means to do it now.

"Will!" Elizabeth's excited cry snapped him out of his observation of the hurting, underfed young man and he winced on Will's behalf when she threw herself at him. "You're all right! Thank god! I came looking for you-"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I know." He kissed her on the mouth to stop her from further talking, drawing her close and breathing in her scent. Norrington looked away, either to give them privacy or because he did not want to be reminded of what he could never have - well, not unless he found his Curatrix - not even he knew.

Jack, on the other hand, shot a worried look at the sea. It had gone still. It had gone utterly still and silent beneath the waves and upper currents. He could feel it. Sea creatures were swimming away in fright of the demonic-like crew of Davy Jones. The Flying Dutchman was there, just beyond the shallow waters around the island. Thank goodness he had left his Pearl in as shallow as he dared with her not so shallow hull, or else Jones would have been tempted to drown her without her Captain. That would have surely been a far greater punishment, as the Pearl was what Jack always wanted the most. It was his freedom given physical form. It was his home.

"I'm fine." Will was still saying when Jack snapped his attention back to the beach instead of the sea beyond it. "Or at least I _would_ have been had you not tricked me into squaring your debt with Davy Jones."

"What?!" Elizabeth's voice was shrill as she snapped her head around to look at Sparrow with disbelief and disgust. Norrington was watching the conversation between the three with mounting amusement.

"What?" Jack repeated even though he knew he wasn't fooling anyone.

"But I do owe you thanks, Jack." Now everyone was staring at Will as though he had gone crazy. Then again, seeing as where he had been ... "Because I was reunited with my father. Whom you _knew_ was alive and had left to serve under Jones like the coward and cruel deceiver that you are."

"What?!"

"What?"

"What?" Elizabeth, James and Jack all asked, one in shock, the other in confusion and the last one in indignation. He had _not_ left Bootstrap to just spend the rest of his miserable afterlife serving Jones. He had not even _known_ that the Turner Senior was serving under Jones until he came and slapped the black spot on him! He hadn't even been sure Bill was _alive_! Jones' curse had him nearly completely out of reach of Jack's Curatrix senses and that was not even mentioning the curse of the Aztec Gold that had been in place before that or the fact that he's only as aware of Bill as he is any other of his protectees. That wasn't nearly as much as his young friends seemed to believe. A Curatrix can only feel their Tutela with celerity. It's how they were created, hardwired.

"Everything you said to me," a dismayed, disappointed and disgusted - that's a lot of 'dis's, ain't it? - Elizabeth started, glaring in displeasure - hah! Another one - and anger and betrayal - did he really deserve that last one? - at Jack. "Every word of it was a lie!"

Jack glared at her at that one. He had only told one lie and it was only a _half_ lie. True, he wasn't exactly an innocent bystander for when Will was practically press-ganged into Jones' crew, but Jack had never intended to leave the whelp there and it had only been as temporary distraction and possibly getting the key that had interested Jack. He had no plans of enslaving one hundred souls for his own worthless one. It went against everything that made him who he was. But everything else he had told her was the truth. The Dead Man's Chest was there, glaring her in the face. She had heard the heart beating within. The Compass had shown them the way to it, proving its magical nature. William had just confirmed Jones and the Flying Dutchman, as if the first two mentioned truths were not enough proof as it were. Bloody hell, _Norrington_ had believed him sooner than she had! But, then again, Norrington was still a sailor, even if a Navy bred one. He can try all he might to disregard the legends of the sea but not even the Navy can beat the fear of the sea and its mysteries out of its men. A sailor _always_ keeps a weather eye on the horizon.

But he didn't point out any of this to her. He had no need to justify himself to the likes of the two buggers who _dared_ bring Beckett back into his life. If anyone had lied and betrayed, it was them. More than they were even aware of, which was the saddest thing of all. He gave them an empty smile. "Time and tide, luv. They wait for no one." He blinked, however, when he saw Will coming over to kneel in front of the chest. He took something out of his coat and Jack felt his hope rising again - the key! But then he saw what looked like an old, all too familiar dagger and dread started pitting in his stomach. "What are you doing?" Did William not know that he who stabs the heart is to be cursed, bound and doomed to sail the seas forever with only one day of shore leave every ten years? Did he _not_ remember Tia Dalma stressing that part of Jones' fate in her story?

"I'm going to kill Jones," Will said confidently, almost as though expecting praise and admiration for his declaration. Instead, he found a sword held at his throat. A look confirmed it as Jack's, for Elizabeth looked stunned at the move while Norrington was just surprised at the swiftness of it.

"I can't let you do that, William." _'For more reasons than one.'_ "If Jones is dead, who's to call his terrible beastie off the hunt?" Sparrow gives Turner a sharp smile, internally begging Will to at least _this once_ not do something _stupid_. "Now, if you please," Jack says as he extends his free hand towards the furious young man. It didn't show on Will's face but Jack's senses were going haywire and he could sense everything in a fifty meters radius. It wasn't pleasant, in the least. "The key."

He isn't nearly as surprised as Will would have wanted him to be when he pushed Jack's sword just as swiftly away as he jumped back and dragged out Elizabeth's sword from her hip. Their swords touched on the flat sides of the blade, Jack for once completely serious when faced with his two young friends in a fight of any kind. "I keep the promises I make." If he intended it as a slight against the pirate, Jack wasn't concerned. He had one important promise to keep and he, in a way, needed the heart so he can keep it. He won't be free to keep it otherwise. "I intend to free my father. I hope you're there to see it." That, at least, was the truth. Despite the other's trickery, Will could not hate whom he _thought_ to be his Curatrix.

Another drawing of a sword rang out as Norrington's blade was pointed at Will, his intentions clear. "I can't let you do that either." The ex Commodore said with a sardonic, fake smile. "So sorry." He most obviously was not. Will glared at him while Elizabeth watched, stunned, what was slowly unfolding right in front of her.

"I knew you'd warm up to me eventually." Jack, unable to repress the fond warmth at the thought of his Tutela standing with him, forgot for a second just _who_ said Tutela was and looked truly shocked and hurt when James' sword point turned to him. He looked at his charge's face, but he only saw determination there and his heart clenched. The warmth seeped out of him faster than out of a corpse.

"Lord Beckett desires the contents of that chest. I deliver it, I get my life back." The ex Navy man explained himself. Elizabeth looked as though she could not believe her ears. Or her eyes. These were three out of four of the most important people in her life and they were ready to face off in some kind of three way duel, possibly to the death and for this stupid chest and its stupid key!

"Ah." The three humans nearly flinched at the unusual deadpan that entered Jack's voice, his face unreadable. "The dark side of ambition." Norrington tried not to squirm like a guilty, ashamed child that had been naughty and caught in the act, red handed, by a parent or a priest. He held strong, keeping eye contact with the guardian.

"I prefer to think of it as a promise of redemption." He replied evenly. The three men square off for a long minute, trying to judge who will be the first to make a move. They all had their strengths and weaknesses. They all had their differing fighting styles. And they all knew if the other takes the key and the chest, their plans are in ruin. The pirate, blacksmith and ex Commodore eye each other wearily, eyes flicking from left to right. Then they leap forward at the exact same time, swords clashing somewhere in the middle, locked in position as none of them wants to relent any ground. Momentarily shocked green, brown and black eyes meet before they narrow and more strength is put in the locked swords.

"Will," Jack calls gravely. "We cannot let him take the chest. You can trust me on this." And he meant it. Beckett, of all people, in possession of the chest? That's bad news for everyone. Pirates. Contender merchants and companies. Rivaling lords. Rivaling nations and navies. Eventually the King himself. The Flying Dutchman is a dangerous weapon and the power over the sea is not meant to be controlled by any one man. And that's not even mentioning the beastie or the other creatures that must deferate to Jones. At Will's look, one that implied he thought Jack smarter than to think the whelp would ever believe him again after his 'treachery', Jack grit his teeth. "You can mistrust me less than you can mistrust him, at least on this one matter."

Turner actually gave Norrington a once over, seeing how ragged and dirty he was, even after a makeshift bath and his clothes washed as best as was possible without soap. "You look awful." Will couldn't help but comment. Norrington grit his own teeth and bit out.

"Granted." It spoke of his desperation, wanting a heart he had not even believed in. "But you're still naive." James told him. "He just wants the heart for himself."

"Pot." Jack grit out at his Tutela. "Kettle. Black." They leap back, away from each other, and the fight is officially off, sunlight gleaming on fine, sharp swords as they fought each other in the sand of the beach, every man for himself. Norrington's greater experience, skill physical advantages were mostly met by Turner, whom he had taught himself, but Will was kept afloat by determination and better feeding - for all that he was poorly fed for two days, Norrington had not fed well until the first night on the Pearl for almost half a year - which allowed him to keep up fine. Jack, on the other hand, let the two do most of the fighting, more focused on the key. His lighter weight, smaller, faster feet allowed him to sink more shallowly into the sand that was hindering the two younger men's movements and his leather and more bendy frame allowed him to maneuver in ways that left the other two momentarily baffled when he did a limbo bow to dodge a sword that would have cut him in the chest.

"Guard the chest," Will told Elizabeth as he parried Norrington, trying to push him back, moving further and further away from said sealed box. Indignant at the audacity to order her around like that, Elizabeth most certainly disagreed.

"No!" She followed after them, trying to get them to stop fighting. "This is barbaric. This is not how grown men settle their-" But none of the three were listening to her, Jack parrying a slash from Will and dodging a stab from Norrington when he moved to get the key at an opening. Elizabeth glares. "Oh, fine! Let's all just haul out our swords and start banging away at each other!" She yelled after them in posh, pompous, condescending tones, marching through the sand after their retreating forms, forgetting about the chest for the moment, altogether. "Have at it! That will solve everything." Jack leaped back when Turner and Norrington lunged for each other, the fight continuing on, the woman's scolding completely disregarded. "Well, I've had it with the lot of you! I've had enough of ... rum soaked ... wobbly-legged ... pirates!" When there's no more reaction to that then there had been to the rest of her speech, Miss Swann seethes.

A few feet away, watching the spectacle are none other than Pintel and Ragetti. "Now how'd this a-go all screwy?" Asked the shorter, older, balder and less skinny pirate.

Ragetti indulged in explaining to his partner in crime what was going on, their earlier terror at seeing the Flying Dutchman submerge completely forgotten in the face of such a sight as the one they were currently playing witness to. "Well, each wants the chest for hisself. Mr Norrington I think is hopin' to regain a bit of honor, ol' Captain Jack's lookin' to trade it to save his own skin and Turner there ... " He crossed his arms and shook his head as if remorsefully. "He's tryin' to settle some unresolved business 'twixt his twice cursed pirate father."

"Sad." Pintel agreed before they focused on the chest, what it might be worth and how they should steal it to 'take away the temptation'. Never mind that vicious fish'men were going to be after them or that Gibbs won't accept them back on the Pearl without her Captain. Greed. A pirate's worst enemy besides soberty and lack of rum.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, was growing sick of being ignored. "I swear! This is madness! This is-!" An idea occurs to her. It had worked once before as a distraction, surely it could work again! "Oh," she said in a weak, shaky voice, placing a hand over her forehead. "The heat." Not her best acting but she did her best not to brace herself against the fall. Thankfully the sand was nice and warm and soft so it didn't hurt like the last time she fake-fainted, on the day of Jack's would be hanging. She lay still for a while but the sounds of sword clashing against sword and another sword kept ringing and even getting fainter the further away the three fighters got. She peeked open an eye and saw that none of them had even noticed. Of course, had she actually fainted, _Jack_ would but she was in no danger so not even the Curatrix bothered to actually check. Seething, she sat up, crossed arms and legs, seething at the three. But then her attention was focused on Pintel and Ragetti trying to make away with the chest between them and, with only the slightest hesitation, she took after them.

Back to the fight, Jack was not as oblivious to what was happening outside of their stupid three way duel like his companions and opposite to what Elizabeth thought. His senses were still haywire and that, unfortunately and fortunately both, alerted him to the fact that Jones' cursed crew were making their way towards them, among other things. He thanked the gods for the stupidity of the two idiots as they made off with the chest, Lizzie following after them to get it back, and for the ease with which he was guiding his two opponents closer to the forest. The closer they were to the trees, the easier it will be for James and Will to get some cover when the fish people arrive. Sensing them too close to the shallows and short for his liking - half way around the world is too close, but beggars can't be choosers - Jack knew he had one last opportunity to get out of here before they are either cut down by the cursed crew or were dragged before Jones himself by them and he timed his next slash well, when James shoved Will back hard enough to make an opening for Jack. He cut the key from Will's waist and caught it as it gleamed in the air.

"Hah-hah!" He triumphed, taking a running leap, unfurling his wings and flying away, towards the jungle like forest.

His two opponents stared after him, affronted at how he dared leave an honorable duel just like that and with a trick they physically could do nothing about, but James - being a pirate hunter and living in the pirate infested port of Tortuga for the past few months - recovered quickly enough and he shoved William to the ground, going as far as to even kick sand in his face. He did a courteous little bow to mock the temporarily blinded man - he had been spending too much time around Sparrow if he was indulging such dramatics - before turning to follow said pirate. "By your leave, Mr Turner."

He had a Sparrow to catch.

Will growled, desperately trying to get the sand out of his eyes and it took him a very long while to manage it. He had to fairly cry in order for the tears to wash out the burning pain of the grains of sand and dirt stinging his eyes. By the time he had managed to gather himself some, his eyes were a little red and puffy from rubbing them, the sand and the crying and he was pissed as hell. He found his sword in the sand and got to his feet with only the smallest of stumbles before he was running off into the forest after Norrington and Jack. He cursed them both foully under his breath like he had learned on the Flying Dutchman, sounding for once like a real sailor. He ignored how the branches whipped at him and the occasional stumbles as he raced through the forest. He _will_ get that key and the chest and he _will_ stab the heart in order to free his father. Then he'll deal with the pirate and the ex-Commodore-more-pirate-by-the-day, take the Compass to Beckett and marry Elizabeth so they can live peacefully in Port Royal once again, like _before_ they met Jack. He _will_ have his father at his wedding. That, he promised.

Back on the beach, near the spot that the chest had been dug out, Davy Jones' crew emerged from the water like heralds of death.


	19. Chapter 19

Trying to stab a Curatrix on top of a roof is not the smartest of ideas James has ever had, as Sparrow simply leaped into the air, avoided the slash and glided elegantly down to where the key and his own cutlass lay while he himself was left with Turner to deal with while the pirate flew away, to the forest. At least the man won't be able to get all that far in with those gigantic wings of his.

"Still rooting for you, mate!" Had been the retreating pirate's last words.

How foolish of him to let the man escape a second time. But he _was_ right. In most of the things he had said. Sparrow was not even a catalyst to how he had ended up as a 'rum-pot deck hand who takes orders from pirates' from a honorable Commodore of His Majesty's Navy. Turner had more guilt in it than the pirate did and so he had started up their duel again.

Fighting on a rolling huge mill wheel as it rushes through the forest teeming with cursed pirates, a runaway chest, Elizabeth and Sparrow both only god knows where was his next bad idea but he had rolled with it, pun completely unintended. Climbing _into_ the spinning wheel, continuing his duel with Turner and then clinging to a single place when it sped up was an even more foolish idea and it had left him right disoriented and unsteady on his feet when the wheel finally stopped in the shallows. He and Will both try to continue the fight, but they're too dizzy and drift apart.

James finds himself drawn to where the Curatrix is fighting two of Jones' cursed crewmen with an oar, keeping them at bay with some strange twirling technique the ex Commodore had never seen before. He falls before the boat and looks inside. Jar of dirt. Dead Man's Chest. Bundled up pirate jacket. Other oar. Elizabeth's satchel. Dirt on the floor of the boat.

The last two give him pause and he looks closer to the chest. The key's already inserted in the lock, although the damned thing is still closed. But there's dirt on the bottom of the boat and it seems to match the dirt inside of that strange jar Sparrow insisted on taking with him when they climbed into the longboat aboard the Black Pearl. The jar, when he looks it over, is still intact. It hadn't been broken. He looks up when a shadow falls over him briefly and a gust of wind whips at his face. Sparrow's magnificent wings were out, used to guard the boat from more of Jones' crewmen trying to get at the chest. He's running out of time.

He ponders, for a moment, how Sparrow might think and his hand immediately reaches for the Letters of Marque in Elizabeth's satchel. Once those are secured inside his coat, he takes up Sparrow's jar and presses it to his ear. There's a beat. A _heartbeat_. _'Clever, Sparrow. Real clever.'_ He gives Will the chest and keeps the heart for himself. Or he gives the chest to the crewmen and escapes with the heart. Too bad Norrington had seen the leftovers of the dirt in the longboat or else his plan might have worked. Without giving it much thought, Norrington opened the jar, took out the beating heart, wrapped it up in what had once been his additional powder bag, closed the jar and put it back in place just in time for Jack to fling away the last of his opponents with his powerful black wings. He went to intercept another approaching man-beast and James had to fight one of his own a moment later.

They were surrounded far too soon, no way for their longboat to make off towards the sea with these men chasing them. Will was out for the count, Sparrow at one point having whacked him over the head with an oar - probably payback for when Will had done it to him - and they were running out of options. Knowing what he did, James had grabbed hold of the chest, told them to get into the boat because there was no way they could leave as long as these things believed that the chest still contained the heart.

"You're mad," Elizabeth berated him, trying to tug him back as he started running away. The crewman saw he had the chest and started to chase after him.

"Don't wait for me!"

He hoped Sparrow was pirate enough not to stick around and actually wait just to spite him.

00000

Jack had to be dragged back into the longboat by Pintel and Ragetti when Norrington ran off, desperate to go after his Tutela and keep him safe, every atom of his being struggling with him. The Curatrix side of his brain was _demanding_ he go but he could not. He tried to reason with himself that the best way to keep James safe would be if he ordered Jones and his crew away with the heart safely in his jar of dirt and it did very little to sooth his angel half.

"I say we respect his final wish, Capt'n," Ragetti tried to reason and Pintel's answering "Aye!" was enough to break the Curatrix half's of his brain control and he ordered the two idiots to immediately start rowing, on the double. James' only hope now was for Jack to make a good deal with Jones and they'll need to be in water and with the heart on the Black Pearl if they want it to work.

But as soon as they were back on deck, the Flying Dutchman burst right out of the sea, next to the black ship with the black sails in the middle of Gibbs asking where Norrington was and sending his prayers for him before jinxing them by saying they had made it clear. Jack wanted to hit him more than once and Gibbs winced away from the angry Curatrix, knowing he had stepped over more than one line. However, Jack has no time to berate him over it, having a terrified, panicking crew to command and a terrifying, pissed Captain of the Flying Dutchman to confront. This was seriously _not_ his day.

"Lord on high, deliver us," Gibbs prays, backing away as if he has anywhere to go. Jack, on the other hand, is oddly unafraid, especially considering it was _him_ Jones was after. He could feel the dreaded crewmen that had went after his Jamie heading back towards the beach but his Jamie was still running in the opposite direction, alive and well. Well enough to be running away and that's more than well enough. The Curatrix part of his brain finally calm, Jack could turn his full focus on dealing with Jones. He lifts the jar of dirt over his head, jiggling and waving it around all smiles and sunshine-like.

"Hello!" He calls, for the second time in his life, in his loudest, most teasing voice to an older, more experienced captain with a harder to sink ship than his own. It's almost a feeling of deja vu, but, hey, last time he had survived. He was sure he can survive this time, too, if he plays his cards right. "Fish-face!" He's well aware they were all staring at him, gobsmacked with his new unusual bravery in the face of the devil himself. "Lose something? Hah hah! Yoo-hoo!" He starts walking across his ship, feeling as though he were eighteen again. The other captain was just as stunned back then as Jones was now. "Over here! Have a look-see! Look at what I've got! I've got a jar of dirt-!" He is cut off as he trips and falls down the stairs that lead from the quarterdeck down to the main deck. He resurfaces into the Dutchman's crew's line of sigh quick enough with the words that he's alright falling from his still grinning lips.

Captain Davy Jones of the infamous Flying Dutchman couldn't stop staring. He just stared and disbelieved. And the more he watched, the more he disbelieved what he was seeing and yet he could not look away. Aware of it or not, Sparrow was using his charm and it was becoming increasingly difficult to want to strangle him. He was in utter disbelief and was falling under the Curatrix's spell, but he was not Captain of the Flying Dutchman for nothing. He was bound to his ship in a way that oddly resembled an item-to-soul bond, even though it was far from it. But as it was, the Flying Dutchman, enchanted as it was, had some form of self-awareness and it demanded its Captain stayed focused on his task, always. And despite it meaning a very _different_ task, it worked now as well and the former farrier of the dead at sea snapped out of the Curatrix's tricky charms and snapped. " _Enough_."

"Shall we board her, sir?" Maccus asked, eager to spill blood, from a little behind him to his right. And while it was _still_ tempting to take the strongest Curatrix on as his personal slave aboard his ship for all eternity, he knew not even that would be punishment enough to curb Sparrow's spirit. No, he had to be properly house-broken - or ship-broken, in this case - before Jones could have his little singing, charming pet.

"No. Sink his beloved Pearl." That would destroy all the fight in the tanned man. The Black Pearl was all Sparrow wanted and he had been ready to trade his soul for her. It seemed fitting punishment before eternal servitude.

Back on the black decks of his vessel, Jack continues his capering on his ship, and she giggles at the way he's acting and even more so at the way even his crew stares at him as though he'd snapped or something. "Look at what I have! I've got a jar of dirt~! I've got a jar of dirt~! And guess what's inside it!" The grin from his face, though, falls when he sees Jones ordering his crew men to prepare for attack. "Hard a starboard."

"Hard a starboard!" Elizabeth, who heard him, repeats a lot more loudly and the order is carried down the ship, the Black Pearl reacting more so than her crew to her Captain's orders. "Wha-!?" Elizabeth swears as the black ship tacks hard, pulling herself on her own away from danger, intent on keeping her Captain for herself this time around. Ten years was too long. Eternity was out of the question.

Jones sees what they're doing and roars his own orders. "Fire cannons! Hard a starboard!" Sparrow has escaped one too many times but Jones was not letting him go this time. He will not be made a fool by the likes of Jack Sparrow. He watches as the cannonballs smash into the walls of the captain's cabin and thinks viciously about the despair that will soon take his soon-to-be-captive once he has him in his grasp and forces him to watch his ship sink into the depths. "Let 'em taste the triple guns!"

As the ship jerks under their feet and someone slams into him, Jack loses his balance and the jar of dirt flies right out of his hands, slamming onto the deck a d breaking into hundreds of fine, sharp little pieces. He races after it, pawing through the sand and looking around wildly for the beating thump-thump of the heart. But there is not a trace of it. As though it had never been there to begin with. But it _had_. Jack had put it in his jar himself. It had been in there ever since he got to the longboat and he'd been alone with the longboat until Will and James came crashing to the beach in the mill wheel-

James. James had been by the boat at one time while Jack had been fighting Jones' crewmen. Jack had felt him at his back and his wings had snapped out to protect him, his Curatrix instincts making him focus on the fight over everything else even more since his Tutela was so close to danger. James must have figured out that the heart wasn't in the chest, where it was and had taken off with the damned thing when he had offered to lead away the cursed pirates. Jack will make a proper pirate out of him yet, if only he survives this. Another lurch had him forcefully pushing away thoughts of his Tutela and instead he focused on his Pearl. She needed his help. He forgot the damned jar and raced towards the wheel, taking it from the struggling Mr Cotton and turning her about. Wind. Her sails needed wind. And his hands were a bit too busy to reach into his coat and its numerous pockets to search for the one wind charm he had - he had not known what it was, given to him by the people of the Easter Island just to get him out of their hair, and he had risked the wrath of a siren and a the Rainbow Dragon to keep it for he had sensed its power at first touch; besides, if a siren wants it, it's bound to be powerful - so they would have to do with the natural winds.

As soon as his lass caught the wind, though, the ship jerked with her desperately determined speed and she started putting a serious amount of distance between her and the cursed ship chasing them. This already bolstered the crew's morale, despite their grave situation. Gibbs in particular was near frantic with excitement. "Aye, Capt'n! Into the swells!" That was their only hope of survival. "Go square into the winds!" He turned to the crew, yelling at the top of his lungs. "All hands, run her full!"

The men scrambled off to do as told, eager to escape with their lives but the Dutchman continued pursuing them, trying to catch up. Jack didn't doubt that it could, should they happen to go upwind. As long as they stay with the wind, his beloved vessel will be the fastest ship to sail the seas. He patted her helm lovingly, murmuring reassurances but she was not worried for herself. She was worried for him. "Go, my darling. Show them what you've got." She surged forwards again, her sails at full canvas and not a breeze breathed on the deck. The Flying Dutchman kept firing at them but the cannonballs fell short, not even grazing the black wood. With each swell, the cursed ship fell more and more behind, the Black Pearl remarkably pulling away, determined to save her Captain. Said Curatrix was gripping the helm tightly, guiding her steady as she goes through the turbulent fast currents beneath the waves and the winds that pushed her onwards.

"She's falling behind!" Elizabeth exclaimed in part bewilderment and part relief and the crew cheered, as there was now indeed several ship-lengths between them and their pursuer.

"Aye! We've got her!" Gibbs replied proudly and just as relieved, although he kept his gaze on the helm. Jack was not relaxing. It was never a good thing when Jack Sparrow did not relax when they had the seemingly advantageous position.

"We're the faster?" A curious and incredulous Will asks, having seen the Dutchman sail full speed ahead. There's a gleam in his eyes that neither of his companions notice but the Pearl shudders under her Captain's hand, a warning she does not have the means to yet fully understand, let alone explain. Not yet. She will, when the time comes to worry about that. She has a cursed ship to outrun for now.

"Against the wind, the Dutchman beats us." Gibbs explained, looking back at said cursed ship. "That's how she takes her prey." He shudders at the thought, crossing himself and spitting over the rail, much to Elizabeth's disgust and Will's amusement. "But _with_ the wind-"

"We rob her advantage." Elizabeth realizes and looks up to the grim faced Jack in understanding as he holds fast the wheel.

"The Black Pearl is a neigh uncatchable ship, especially with th' Capt'n at the helm. She flies under his hand," Joshamee told the youngsters. "No ship can catch 'er when he's up there. But, as you've seen when Barbossa chased the Interceptor, Jack isn't exactly necessary for her to be fast. She'll never be as fast as when he pilots her but let her sail with the wind and not even the Dutchman can have her."

Will looks up at Jack then back at the following Flying Dutchman and hope gleams in his eyes. But then he frowns in confusion when the cursed ship slows down and turns away, completely against wind, sails tied, the ship gently rocking on the waves, as though they had no plans of pursuit at all. Not understanding what was happening but seeing a chance none the less, Will runs up to the quarterdeck, straight for Jack still at the helm. He ignored the cheering pirates as Elizabeth calls out that the Dutchman was turning away, instead grabbing Sparrow by his jacket and turning him to look at Will. Jack yelped as he was all but ripped away from the wheel and Mr Cotton hurried over to steady her, keeping her with the wind.

"My father is on that ship!" He hisses in the Curatrix's face. "If we can outrun her, we can take her!" He brings Jack up higher so that the Curatrix has to stand on tiptoe if he wants to touch the deck at all. "We should turn and fight!"

Jack grabs hold of Will's wrists with a bruising grip and makes to wrench him away, when the Pearl suddenly groans and jerks to a complete stop. Sailors fall over themselves with the lurch, Pintel and Ragetti catching Elizabeth before she could fall down the stairs bellow deck. Off balance as they both were, Jack and Will fall over, hitting the deck hard and Jack feels his lass shuddering under him. For just a moment, as he lies there, he senses a malicious presence just beneath the surface of the water, just beneath the hull, pulling and holding fast to the Pearl.

He goes pale as realization struck.

It's too late. The Kraken was already attacking.

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Jack desperately is rowing away from the most precious thing in his life besides his Tutela, trying to put as much distance away from the ship as he can. It hurt watching her struggle with the giant sea creature trying to sink her, but this was the only way. As long as one of them survived, the other will be able to come back. It was only a matter of time. She did not approve but she promised she will wait for him, his lass. His lady love. His _item_.

Yes. Captain Jack Sparrow, in accordance to the enormous size of his wings, does indeed have an enormous amount of power and that, also, means he is to have an enormous item. People just expected it to be his cutlass or his coat with its supposedly bottomless pockets. No one would have ever even _thought_ that Jack was truly powerful enough to break even _those_ set boundaries and for him to have so huge an item, an entire _ship_. But here he was, he and his Pearl, a team made in heaven, by gods who found humor in creating such an outcast to all the usual norms.

He had found her back when he was fifteen and gad sailed on her ever since, as the cabin boy under the good ol' Captain Morgan. He was more often the pilot and navigator than he was an actual cabin boy, seeing as he was the most educated and one of the most experienced sailors on the ship. She used to be called the Wicked Wench, back in the day, and she had been _gorgeous_. All snow white sails, dark brown hull and golden lining. More than any other object ever could have, the Wicked Wench defined Jack Edward Teague so rightly that even her colors matched the colors his wings once sported. When she had burned and sank, five years after _he_ became her Captain and when he sold his soul to the devil just to see her sail again, she turned black and his wings followed her. He renamed her the Black Pearl and then turned to his family business, never to leave it again.

They had been through so much together and it _hurt_ to leave her behind again. Yes, this was the only way even _one_ of them will survive. He's much too close to Isla Cruces. He would need barely half an hour of rowing to reach it. He would find James there, with the heart and take it back. He could get the Pearl back, if he continues this course, for he would have the leverage to make Jones return her to him. The Black Pearl _sings_ in relief at this change of plan. She wants him out of the water, until he dies if needs be, just to avoid his stupid plan, just to avoid the Kraken. To avoid Jones. She would wait. Even if she were crushed by the sea and the Kraken, even if Jones were to spread her shattered, crushed, destroyed parts all over the world, she would wait. Wait for an eternity, she would wait. Wait for her Captain. And Jack would find her. He'd go over the edge of the world, into hell and return as many times as he needed to get her back. She was a part of his soul. They belonged together. He had chased her and found her. They were one. She was his Pearl and he was her Captain.

He hated this but it was the only way either of them had a chance of meeting again. She preferred this second option - her sacrifice will save him - and so she urged him to row. To row liked he'd never done before. Freedom lay on land. She urged him to spread his wings and fly away. The Kraken won't sense the Black Spot as long as he has no connection, direct or indirect, with the sea. If he takes flight, he could escape undetected!

But that was not Jack's plan and it's not a plan he feels he can execute. It would mean Jones wins. James is safe on the island. That's all that matters to a Curatrix, the safety of their Tutela. That part of him cared not for the lives of the men on his ship, although it would mourn his protectees. Gibbs, Marty, Mr Cotton, Elizabeth and Will ... They held a special place in his heart but the heart itself already belonged to James. Mourned they would be but his Curatrix half was more tempted that he seek out his Tutela. The island was small enough for him to easily fly over it in maybe five minutes. The search would be brief. They could be together. It was tempting enough of an offer for Jack to be torn. They'd have the power to bring back the Pearl and chase away Beckett forever, but what would James think of a man who let his friends die?

He took out his Compass and opened it without hesitation. He watched the needle as it wavered, pointing behind him - James, the heart, life, freedom - before swinging back towards his ship - the Black Pearl, _freedom_ \- and he groaned as though in pain. It swung back and forth before settling on one direction and Jack already hated himself for his decision.

He ignored the tugging of his soul and he ignored, for the first time, his Pearl's voice.

Isla Cruces was getting further and further away.


	20. Chapter 20

Jack had always known Elizabeth was a pirate, more so than Will ever could be. She was dangerous in her charm and good looks and her supposedly innocent manners. She was as rotten as any pirate that Jack had ever seen and he couldn't help but be a bit proud of her as she shackled him to the main mast. " _Pirate_." He breathed against her lips when she pulled back. She had blindsided him, even though probably not in the way she thought. He had been surprised and confused. He had not expected this to be the result of returning to his ship.

There was no need for the manacles. He has no desire to be anywhere else but here, with his ship, in their final moments together as his crew rowed away. The Kraken had not went after the Black Spot. In had stayed attacking his Pearl and Jack knew his plan to lead the beastie away had not worked. Jones would rather still get a chance to possess and use him than destroy him altogether. No, he instead intended to use the Kraken to destroy that which is most precious to Jack. As he has no knowledge of who Jack's Tutela is, he has no more leverage against him than the possibility of his ship being returned, or taunting him with her fate now that she was in his grasp. Jack would not give the octopus-face that pleasure.

His Pearl berated him for it even as she extended her spirit into the shackles that were not a part of her - never a part of her, of Jack's freedom - in order to loosen them enough for Jack to slip his hand free without the need of breaking his wrist or fingers. Jack just caressed the main mast lovingly, muttering endearments and promises he was no longer sure he could keep. It was the Locker for them both and she will once again be his anchor. They would be together and Jack will gladly spend eternity with her and no one else as long as they _stayed_ together. James can find serenity without him. How _would_ he find serenity with Jack Sparrow of all people, anyway? Jack was followed by trouble and chaos like two puppies following a master. There would be no peace with him.

James was probably better off without him, anyway. He'd not been Jack E. Teague for many years now. He wasn't sure he even remembered how to be that man from before. It's been _years_ since he'd been that naive. He'd seen even more of the world than when they'd first met. Hell, he'd seen more of the world since their _last_ meeting. And they'd only met a couple of times, anyway. What did James have to mourn? Certainly not a pirate.

Thinking of his family name brought thoughts of his family. He cared very little for his cousins and aunts and uncles, but his closest family mattered to him a great deal. His Da, his Uncle Jack, maybe his Grandmama ... What would they think? His Da had already lost his own Tutela and Jack's Mum had died shortly after giving birth to him. He would have no one again. Jack didn't want his Da to suffer and that was not even mentioning the trouble of having to find someone to take Jack's place in pirate society. That was going to be a pain. Not to mention salt on an open wound. His cousin Valerie will probably get his position. She had always been a better pirate than him, anyway. Not that that would help with being the Heir ... She didn't have nearly as rich a memory as Jack's was. She'll struggle to memorize the entire Code.

He just managed to tug his hand free when the Kraken slithered up the side of the Pearl's hull. Its mouth opened as he turned to face the creature and it roared in his face. He did not flinch at that stench of a thousand corpses or the slime that hits him or the hot air that ruffles his hair and coat. The thing is no less mortal than him, no less magical, no less corporal. It will take him to the depths and it will take him to the Locker, but the Pearl was _his_ ship and as long as her black boards are under the soles of his feet, he fears nothing. She sighs at his stubbornness - he could still fly away but they both know he _won't_ \- but she would also have it no other way. If they had to go down, then they would go down together and no beastie was going to tear them apart. Never again.

The Kraken had his tentacles all around her, holding her tight even as it lunged almost in slow motion towards her Captain. Jack Sparrow, in his last moments on this Earth, took out his cutlass and let his magnificent wings spread out behind him, standing defiantly with his Black Pearl, daring the beast to challenge him. Just as the giant maw moved to take him, he jumped forwards and with a single slice to the Kraken's delicate inner throat, Jack Sparrow and his Black Pearl were no more.

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The surviving crew of the Black Pearl, consisting only of Joashamee Gibbs, Mr Cotton and his parrot, Marty, Pintel, Ragetti, Elizabeth Swann and William Turner Junior, could not help but stare in horror as the two greatest legends and icons of piracy were swallowed by the beast they had fought and only managed to anger. They couldn't help but flinch and look away when, with a final ear-shattering scream of rage and triumph, the Kraken dragged down the topmast of the main mast under the waves, the legendary Black Pearl and her eccentric Captain lost forever, never to be found, never to be seen ever again.

Elizabeth in particular took the disappearance of the flag and the topmast like a punch to the gut. She had left Jack behind because she had feared the Kraken would continue going after them because it was after him, not the Black Pearl. She had kissed him and left him to his death, just like Judas had with Jesus. She knew she had no right nor basis to compare these two betrayals - Jack was no saint, but he was as close to divinity as humanity can ever hope to be and she had betrayed him. She would go to hell for that - but the fact remained that Jack had considered her a friend and had trusted her. She had taken advantage of that trust and had used it against him.

Surely their bond must be broken. She was doomed to spend the rest of eternity alone, being reborn again and again, never meant to get peace until some deity takes pity on her and ends her suffering. She had killed her own Curatrix, so she rather doubted respite will ever come to her.

She deserved to suffer.

He had come back, had known it was sure death. He had returned and had fought with them in the end. And she had repaid him by telling him she wasn't sorry for organizing his death.

She deserved to suffer.

Sitting across from her, William was mourning not the loss of a man, but rather the ship that he had went down with. The Black Pearl was the only ship faster than the Flying Dutchman and she had sank with her Captain. A poetic end for such a pair but it put a great dent in Will's plans. With the Pearl, it would be easy to eventually catch the Dutchman and spring his father free. Without her, Will was back to square one. And there was no Jack to give him some savvy advice or a crazy idea that might through some great miracle or the pirate's own luck end up working.

What was worse, Jack had kissed Elizabeth! How could he do that!? Did he know how Will would feel about that? Did he not consider Will's feelings? Maybe he thought it wouldn't matter because he was to die? Well, Will thought it _mattered_. Because Elizabeth was distraught about his death and they were not talking. Sure, it had not been long since he'd seen them kiss, but she had not said a word to him since he'd asked where Jack was. No matter. Jack was dead now, as cruel as it was to think like that, and Will was still here. He'll let her gather her thoughts and they'll go back to how it was before.

Meanwhile, he had to think about how he'll save his father.

Gibbs, on the other hand, was probably the only one truly allowed to mourn the now dead eccentric Captain in this boat. He was the only one who really knew him well enough to really _mourn_. He'd seen his young friend and Captain in all sorts of situations and he had been very fond of him. The world already seemed much too bleak with the knowledge that Jack Sparrow was good and gone. And he shuddered at the thought of the people he'd have to tell. He wasn't sure whose fallout he feared more: Jack's father's, his grandmother's or Tia Dalma's, who had been a mother figure as much as a friend to the downed Captain of the Black Pearl. Gods be merciful on him.

And gods be merciful on them all, if he has to tell the Commodore - not anymore but maybe again? He has the heart - too, what his actions had brought about and what his actions _will_ bring about if he continues on this course. Maybe it won't matter to him, in the end. He would have nothing else but the possibility if being a Commodore again.

After all, he must have broken their bond when he killed his own Curatrix, even if indirectly.

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James had never before felt such a sense of deja vu as he did while he was running away from the cursed fish-men that made up the crew of Davy Jones and his Flying Dutchman. For one, it reminded him an awful lot of a certain nightmare he had suffered through some two years ago, especially the irregularity of his heartbeat. He was just as out of breath, tired and desperate as he ran through what appeared to be a familiar forest as he had been in his dream. And that was not even mentioning just how _frightened_ he was. For he knew how his dream ended and he feared - rationally or irrationally, it mattered not - that this would end in a similar manner. Which was absurd! His Jack was nowhere near him right now! Why would he be in any sort of danger.

He had nearly dismissed the entire idea altogether, but then he had tripped and Jones' crewman surrounded him like a pack of hungry, vicious vultures. Just like in his dream. Knowing that he had nothing to lose by giving them the chest, he had taken off after throwing the damned thing at the one blocking his way to freedom, never turning back to see whether they were following him or not. He just kept _running_. He had been running in his dream, too. He had been chased, before he tripped, but then no one had been on his heels but he had kept running all the same. It was disconcerting how many of his dream's features were coinciding with reality now.

But, just as in his dream, he soon ran out of forest to run in, panting for breath, heart hammering a staccato beat against his chest, his boots buried in the sand of the beach. It was probably the same beach on which they had dug up the chest, if only behind the curve of the relatively small island that was Isla Cruces. He was drenched in his own sweat and as dirty as he had been upon boarding the Black Pearl again, due to the day's events. Such a shame. He had enjoyed the relative cleanness that he had enjoyed for but a day or so. He was a little worried about his health, though. Surely no matter the exercise, fear or amount of adrenaline coursing through his body, his heart should not be beating like that! He'd never heard of someone's heart doing the acrobatics his must be in order to beat like that.

Strangely enough, he did not feel like his blood was pounding too hard in his ears or like he had enough energy to repeat such a run, as would have been the case if his blood was rushing as hard as his heart was pounding.

 _'Maybe it's just my imagination?'_ He wondered to himself idly, his breathing slowing down a little. Now, how was he supposed to get off of this bloody island? He doubted the crew of the Black Pearl had been so nice as to have left their longboat for him. Even if Sparrow had forgone the boat altogether and returned on his own to the ship by way of flight, those two pirates, Turner and Elizabeth would have surely taken it by now and left. If they were not killed and the cursed crewmen did not destroy the longboat so as to leave James stranded on this island. He doubts any of that had happened - despite Turner's earlier description of Sparrow, the pirate actually had a good, honest streak and tended to put his life on the line for the sake of others more often than a marine would ever care to and _they_ were supposed to be the 'good guys'. Sparrow had probably managed to get them all out safely. The man had an uncanny ability to survive anything thrown his way. James rather doubted Sparrow really _needed_ the heart-

There was something like a deafening roar in the distance and James flinched. Panic gripped him like nothing ever had before, not even that time he was drowning and his Curatrix had not been able to drag them both up over the waves without help. Before he knew it, his feet were pounding away at the sand, rearing up small clouds of dust behind him as he almost mindlessly raced in a direction he did not know, but his soul seemed to be pulling him in. He was running again, just like in his dream. His heartbeat was still irregular - why _was_ that? - and he had to struggle to draw in any air at all. His body protested the abuse but his mind and his soul could not have cared any less. He was going to damn run if he wanted to and, right now, he _wanted_ to, _needed_ to. He needed to run. He had to get _there_ , where ever there was, before it was too _late_.

He ran on the beach, close enough to the water that it was almost lapping at his feet. He was almost _there_ , he could feel it, but he was in a panic because it was too late, _he_ was too late. What was going on? It took him but a few minutes more to come to the spot from which he had started his mad dash and, in the distance, he could see a black dot, just distinguishable enough to be a ship but the details were unclear. He didn't _need_ them to be clear in order to know the dot was black not because of the distance, but because the ship itself was black: black hull, black railing, black masts, black sails with only some gold lining and a golden figurehead of a woman holding a bird in an outstretched hand. But there was a strange _something_ wrapping around the ship as far as Norrington could tell and the ex Commodore felt desperation, fear, sorrow and panic seize his heart as they suddenly tugged down, whatever those shapes were, and the Black Pearl went down with it.

He was in the water before he could think about it, mindlessly calling out names he was not even sure he should worry about, calling out for people he knew only oh so briefly and the three people he might have at some point considered companions. The waves and the sand would not allow him to reach the sinking ship, would not let him get out of the shallows, holding him back. Before he was waist deep in the water, it was already too late, the mainmast of the black ship already beneath the waves, the fate of her Captain and crew left unknown.

He heard a crack, so minute a sound that no one else would have heard it, but he did and he felt a freezing chill settle deep into his very bones as the crack registered. He had heard it once before. His hand frantically reached into his breast pocket and he took out his gem. A black pearl, about the size of his fingertips, with cracks all over its once smooth, gleaming surface. It seemed dull now. Dull and empty of life. His soul felt empty. He could barely register the bond that still struggled to keep him and his Curatrix connected. He himself felt empty, like he had stopped functioning and he didn't understand why.

His heartbeat had normalized. Only, James realized, his own heart had _stopped_. There was still a beating against his chest and he reached into his jacket. The heart of Davy Jones beat in his hand, mocking him for the lack of his own heartbeat. The cracks in his black pearl were deeper and he could have _sworn_ some stardust had drifted out from between the cracks.

His knees gave out and James Norrington knew no more.

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On the Flying Dutchman, where Jones had watched the Black Pearl and her erstwhile Captain sink to the depths, about to be dragged to his Locker, he felt satisfaction as well as regret. He had just taken from the world the most fascinating of heaven-created creatures, one whose power he himself would have gladly taken advantage of. Sparrow was a one of a kind man, one of a kind specimen of his own kin that Jones felt a little remorseful that he would never get to see the true extent of Sparrow's powers and skills. There were places Jones could not sail into without Sparrow as his pilot. He could forget about those places now. And Sparrow's powers were far more great than the simple charm of a Curatrix. Sparrow was the luck of the gods, he had it in every fiber of his being. They had expected much of him.

It was a good thing Jones was already pretty much dead or else he would have had a lot to fear from their rage. Sparrow had been their favorite. Even the Captain of the Flying Dutchman had known not to simply take the pirate, even when the opportunities were clear and true. The bargain was his best chance. He should have not allowed Sparrow to charm him into agreeing to that three days trial to let Sparrow collect one hundred souls. The man would never go back on his libertine ways. Freedom was everything to him, which was why he loved his ship so much.

No matter. Sparrow will be more useful in some ten years, when the locker wears him out. He had no connection to the world of the living to keep him strong. It was why it was tricky to place a Curatrix in the Locker. Their souls were more accurately split up between their Tutela, their item, their gem and their own body, a strong connection keeping them bound to all four. Killing a Curatrix was far easier than breaking even one of those bonds. But Jones was sure that Sparrow had his Tutela aboard the Black Pearl. The man had been _glowing_ with happiness that particular way a Curatrix does whenever they are close to their charge. That meant guardian and charge, both their items and both their gems were on the Black Pearl, on their way to the Locker. The human will wilt away within a few weeks but Sparrow's angelic half will keep him sane a lot longer. But even Curatrix have their limits. Soon enough, Sparrow will be a perfect puppet for Jones to pull the strings of. He can wait a few more years. Sparrow was his now.

He had more concerning matters to attend to. Sparrow's debt has been settled but the man had been close enough to the chest that Jones did not like it. Not one bit. So while his crew murmured amongst themselves that not even Jack Sparrow could best the devil and that a true Captain always goes down with his ship, he ordered for the chest to be brought to him. The damned thing inside had not been giving him troubles with _feelings_ (it was interesting how he spat out the mere _thought_ as though it was poison in his mouth) and that in itself was worrisome, for he had buried it away for that very same reason. The key in the lock already told him all he needed to know and yet he still ordered it opened.

It was empty.

His punishment for taking Sparrow was that he was about to become either very _dead_ or some mortal fool's lapdog. He could just _hear_ the mocking laughter and disgusted sneers of the gods, their vengeful stares and their furious snarls. Once again, Jack Sparrow had bested him.

" _Sparroooooooow_!" He bellowed to the wind in helpless fury. It did him no good. Sparrow was still gone. The heart was still gone.

His days of freedom were numbered.

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They came to an end just a couple of days later, when a disgusting midget of an English Lord of the East India Trading Company took his heart in hand and summoned him into the docks of Port Royal. Lord Cutler Beckett was smug and proud and arrogant as Jones was forced to report for duty, if he wished to keep his life - and he _did_ ; he was a coward, for all his famed power and cruelty. Even he feared _death_. He could not help but admire Sparrow's resolve to rather die than become a slave, though. That man was stronger than he had given him credit for, it would seem.

By Beckett's side were two men. On reeked of blood, even from where Jones stood, but there was a certain air of _otherness_ to him that had Jones wary. An assassin of _those_ origins? He'd never heard of such a thing before. But the other of the two taller men, the tallest yet youngest of the three, was blank faced and yet stony eyed. Those green orbs flashed with rage whenever they settled on the heart in Beckett's hand or the tentacles on Jones' face.

He shivered when he saw them return to their blank stare as he was told to kill his Kraken.

What had _he_ done to make such a man?

And why did he feel strangely _familiar_?

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Tia Dalma had felt it when Jack Sparrow was drawn to the depths and into the Locker. The sea _shivered_ under the rage of a woman who had gazed upon the Curatrix as a symbol of hope, whom she had cared for as her own and whom had been her friend longer than any other being dared to hope. Her rage was warring with her sorrow, but the people of the swamp had no such struggles. Flames light the dark shores of her swamp, all around her little shack as she hands out a warm drink to the returned crew of Captain Jack Sparrow. Hundreds of men, women and children were holding candles outside, lighting the way as though in hopes of drawing Jack's soul away from the torment that awaits him and towards an always safe harbor. He had done much for these people, and so they steadily, unflinchingly held vigil, hoping for what they knew was hopeless.

Tia Dalma is not impressed with the story they gave her. It was true enough, her Witty Jack's choice, but it was not the whole story. The young woman was hiding something and she did not know that the voodoo witch knew just _what_. Tia Dalma was not fond of Elizabeth Swann, the would be murderess of Jack Sparrow. She had shackled him and left him to die. Witty Jack would not have flown away, even if he could. He would not have left his Pearl. But _she_ , oh, she thought she knew _better_ and so she had gone and killed the very essence of the man Jack Sparrow always strove to be. A free man. Witty Jack will not be forgiving her so easily.

Young William Turner resembled his father a great deal, but he had a dark side. A terrible dark side that haunted his thoughts, his soul. He cared not all that much for a lost friend but for his friend's ship which had been lost along with said friend. He had become narrow minded in the short time since she had last seen him. She was disappointed. Bill had never been like that. For all that he had betrayed her Witty Jack, he had mourned him when he had thought him lost. The Black Pearl will not sail for this one, no matter what he wants.

The rest were somber and sorrowful enough for her to realize there had been a true and deeply rooted loyalty in them for the downed pirate Captain. It showed just how much he had meant to them in Gibbs' speech and their reactions to it.

"Aye. And, already, the world seems bit less bright without him. Tricked us all, to the end, but I guess that honest streak finally won out." There was true regret and sadness in his voice. It had been difficult for the old sailor to face her and tell her what had become of the Black Pearl and her Captain. "To Jack Sparrow!" Had been his simple toast.

"Never another like Captain Jack."

"He was a true gentleman of fortune, he was."

"He was a good man," Elizabeth had brought up in the rear. Her voice was shaky, full of regret, sorrow and the guilt that was eating away at her. Tia Dalma felt no pity for her. She deserved far worse. Jack Sparrow does not trust easy and yet he had extended his trust to her, had made her his friend, one of his protectees. And she had taken all of that and spat in his face. Tia Dalma was not interested in her guilt.

"If there was anything that could be done to bring him back, Elizabeth..."

Ah, but in that she _was_. She fairly teleported in front of Will, eager. "Would ya do it, hm?" She asks him. She turns to look at the rest of the bewildered sailors and saw the recognition and hope flaring in Gibbs' eyes. "Wha' would ya, wha' would _any_ of you be willin' to do? Hm?" Tia asks them all, knowing this was her only chance of saving her plans and saving her friend. "Would ya sail to de ends of de earth and beyond, to fetch back Witty Jack and him precious Pearl? Hm?" She didn't need to wait long for their answers and a grin split her face. Not a single one of them had refused. Charm or true loyalty, it mattered little to her how her Witty Jack ran his ship, but true loyalty was always best, as it compelled men to go back for those they were loyal to. Witty Jack could inspire loyalty a lot easier than he thought. "Very well." She said, pleased. "But if ye are ta brave de weird an' haunted shoals at World's End, den ye be needin' a capt'n wot knows dose waters."

She greatly enjoyed the way their jaws dropped when Hector Barbossa, the mutinous first mate and former captain of the Black Pearl, appeared from the back of her shack. "Now, tell me, what's become if _my_ ship?"

She anticipates the adventures to come.

Jack Sparrow will be needed soon enough.


	21. Chapter 21

It took them a year to finally actually _start_ their search for World's End and another few weeks to reach it after that whole spectacle in Sao Feng's Singapore bath house, what with the need of a ship, crew and the legendary Mao Kun map. In that years, they had _had_ to get to Singapore, a not so easy task. They had first had to commandeer a ship and then repair it in order for it to be seaworthy enough to last an ocean worth of sailing. They had had to run from plenty of EITC and Navy ships and they always had to engage in some form of battle in order to make their escape. They kept forgetting it was not the Black Pearl they were sailing on, but some poor excuse for a ship to make such a long journey. They did not have Jack there to make matters easier, either, and his presence was sorely missed.

After everything went all screwy during the meeting with Sao Feng, what with Will being caught and Ian Mercer barging in with the Navy, it was a miracle they had all gotten out alive, let alone with a ship and a crew that they would need in order to travel to World's End. Barbossa kept a weather eye on Will, not trusting such an easy transaction with Sao Feng as Turner was suggesting. He knew the Pirate Lord of the South China Sea better than the whelps and Sparrow's crew could guess. He and Sparrow were partially the _reason_ why he was a Pirate Lord at all. He knew, no matter what you promised Feng, he would not have agreed to anything that might bring Jack Sparrow back to the land of the living, such was his hatred for the Curatrix.

Barbossa himself found he no longer held any ill feelings where his fellow Pirate Lord and captain of the Black Pearl was concerned. It might be this second chance at life and it might be because of the respect he had felt Sparrow give him after his last breath was drawn or it might be that he needed the man in order to _keep_ this second chance at life, but he held no ill will against the eccentric man. If anything, he couldn't _wait_ for his former captain/friend/enemy to come back. The world has been screwed sideways ever since Sparrow's death and only _he_ would be able to set it straight. The fallen Curatrix was a master manipulator and he understood the mechanics of the world and its peoples a lot better than most would give him credit for. Jack would know how to deal with Beckett, the Brethren Court and even Jones himself. He'd had dealings with all of them a lot more than Barbossa had.

And that was not even mentioning Sparrow's _other_ strange relationships, namely being best mates with a sea goddess or having various creatures of the sea owing him favors. No wonder he survived all those messes he got himself dragged into. Barbossa had been visited by one too many pissed off selkie, siren, mermaid, harpy and that one sea serpent that had caused a not so proud reaction out of Barbossa when he had spotted the beast to be comfortable with the idea of just how many connections Sparrow had.

It was not going to be easy, by any means. Barbossa had only once traveled to the gateways that lead to World's End and it had been with Sparrow's charts - aboard the Black Pearl, in the great cabin - while he had been under the curse of Aztec Gold. He had had nothing to fear. There was no death looming over him or his crew. Tai Huang's men were as mortal as the rest of them and they were cowards with no real loyalty to anyone but themselves. Not even to Sao Feng. They just feared him more than they did others because they knew how cruel he can be.

The cold and the eery stillness of World's End was starting to get to everyone. It would have been different if Jack were around. Barbossa had seen men completely at ease as Sparrow sailed them straight into the eye of a storm, once, when they were many years younger. Sparrow's presence commanded the deck, the attention, charm or no charm. He was larger than life and so it was easy to see whether he was truly gone from the world. It was indeed a much bleaker, darker place without the guardian. It was felt most among the men who had sailed with him. They would turn towards the helm, expecting a drunk-looking smile with glittering gold teeth and an easy answer that would set their minds to rest, only to find someone else there, just as uneasy as they were. They were all shivering and they missed the sunny smiles and warm amused eyes that would have made it all at least a bit more bearable, this dark, heavy atmosphere and the duty they had to fulfill.

It was a heavy burden _without_ the knowledge that the song has been sung in Port Royal, of all places. Beckett had Jones under his thumb and a good strategist on his side to command his armada. The whelps from Port Royal were certain it was Norrington and Barbossa was inclined to agree. The Commodore was too much like his old man in too many ways for it to be anyone else. Barbossa had nearly died at the hands of Admiral Lawrence Norrington and his son was a chip off the old block. The senior Norrington had been dealt with by the Keeper of the Code and the man no longer sailed. If you asked Barbossa, it was only fitting that _Sparrow_ deals with _this_ Norrington.

But, for that, they need Sparrow back among the living. The sooner the better. It's already been a year and it was now only a matter of time before Sparrow's mind is completely lost to madness, or so Tia Dalma said. Humans have gone mad in a lot less time but she figured a Curatrix would hold up better. Hector personally thought Jack was going to be only slightly crazier than he already was. That man was made of tougher stuff than they all believed him to be. He was a powerful guardian. Barbossa had had ten years to do some research about Curatrix and he had come to the conclusion as to the wing span and color difference. The more you inherit from your angelic side, the bigger your wings are, but the more you inherit of your human side, the more colorful they are. And from what he had gathered from Sparrow himself, the man's wings had not always been black. That did not impact the fact that Sparrow was quite possibly the strongest semi-mortal being to walk the earth that was not pure divinity. It would take a lot more to take him down as long as he had something to fight for and freedom was it this time like any other before.

And that was not even mentioning Jack's Tutela, some 'Jamie' person. Hector did not even know their gender but they held Sparrow's absolute love. It would have helped to have his Tutela here. Tia Dalma said it would have made the whole thing easier but there was always the possibility it would push the trapped Pirate Lord of the Caribbean over the edge.

Hadn't Turner Junior said something about an edge? _Over the edge. Over again. Sunrise sets. Flash of green._ Ah, yes, that sounds about right. If only he knew what it meant. Barbossa was not stupid by far, but he was not a fan of puzzles and riddles and this be just that. It was a clue as to how to return from the world of the dead, for entering is not the hard part. It's getting _back_. And with the incompetent miscreant crew he had to deal with ... Urgh! He hopes Sparrow is not as addle in the brain as everyone seemed to fear.

They would need his savvy to get out of this one.

00000

It has been a little over a year and his gem was still not healing. James L. Norrington, Admiral of the East India Trading Company's armada, had been on edge for just as long, not daring to show his precious little black pearl to anyone other than Dr Witwicky and the man was as baffled about the cracks as he had been three years ago, when the first one had appeared. Only he got to see and touch them for himself this time around and he had seen just what James' strange condition looked like while it was still lasting.

The cracks would some days get better, shallower and James would feel hope blossoming in his heart, that any day now, they would disappear completely and his Curatrix would appear by his side, alive and well, a beaming grin on a face he could not even properly imagine as a grown man. Other days, they would remain the same as they were when they had first appeared, a year ago. Those days left James exhausted and rather hopeless, when there was no change. And then, there were those worst kind of days. Days when the cracks would deepen so much that James thought the pearl was going to break apart and a breeze was going to take away its remains like dust. Stardust seeping out of them and actually _being_ carried off did not help his state of mind. At times he swore it was like an sand clock and that the sand was slowly running out. He wondered if he was crazy to consider even that a blessing as opposed to not knowing anything that was happening to his Curatrix.

The past year had not been easy, even without having to worry about his Curatrix and his gem. He now worked for Beckett and he had come to realize the man was a tyrant in the worst possible meaning of the word. James had did his duty and hunted down every pirate that he came across. However, that's where things changed and soon got out of control. Beckett did not let the survivors of the attacks get a trial. Instead, they were first interrogated by his assassin secretary James was _sure_ wasn't entirely human and they they were hanged, also without trial. He kept expecting them to sing of all things, something James did not understand the need of. Beckett attended each group hanging and waited for this song to be sang, only to repeat the process with each next hanging. James was even expected to be at most of them, so he got the front row seat to see how annoyed, disappointed and resigned Beckett was with each group hanging gone without this _song_.

What was worse, or rather _made_ even worse, was the fact that Beckett soon stopped caring who he was hanging. Old men, women, children, Curatrix, old war veterans, merchants, a privateer here and there, a soldier, once ... Nothing was sacred to the man. Anyone and everyone who had had even the _slightest_ bit of contact with a pirate, even if unknowingly, was hunted down, out on sea or on land, it didn't matter, shackled, interrogated and then hanged without a chance to prove their innocence. Beckett watched it all while drinking tea and eating biscuits, not at all caring about the lives he was destroying for his own sick reasons.

It got to the point that Jones took pity on the pirates he was hunting and started simply killing them all so that there were no survivors left for Mercer to interrogate. It was a sad day when you realized that was mercy.

On top of all of Beckett's other sick little traits that made James' very skin crawl if he stayed in his presence longer than ten minutes, the short Lord was completely and irrevocably _obsessed_ with Jack Sparrow, of all people. It was starting to unnerve Norrington, the way the man could insert the now-supposedly-dead pirate's name in any conversation.

If a captain had nearly lost his ship, let alone the cargo, in a freak storm, Beckett would snort and say Sparrow would not have lost a single crate had he been in the man's place.

If a merchant complained about unfavorable winds and blamed them for being late in his delivery, Beckett would retort that Sparrow would have found a favorable current instead.

If a soldier complained about being too drunk to carry out some silly task - usually during their free time of shore leave after weeks out at the sea and allowing himself to indulge a little - that anyone else could have done instead, Beckett would comment that Jack Sparrow, do drunk as to be seeing triple, would have been able to _hold court_ , let alone do something so silly and easy like that.

When someone tried to reason with him that prices were too high on some cargo, he'd go and say he should think like Sparrow if he wants to get anywhere.

And there was that one time when James could not have taken a surprisingly well organized fleet - they had all sailed under the same jolly rodger, if James remembered correctly; a black flag with two crossed cutlasses was dancing in the wind on each mainmast beneath individual flags - without taking some serious damage and Beckett had said that Jack Sparrow would have certainly been able to do it with a _single_ ship, let alone the fleet James had had with him.

James had replied he was not Jack Sparrow - he had a feeling Beckett was right and not exaggerating at all. Sparrow was a creature of fey, if he ever saw one. No man should be that lucky.

And Beckett had almost disappointedly agreed that he was not. He started sending James out more often after that, for which Norrington was grateful. He would rather not see innocent men, women and children be hanged for accidentally associating with pirates. He was glad not to return to Port Royal for a good two months before Beckett called for him again. There was a large assembly of pirates waiting in a long line to be hanged and the first group of the day consisted of a woman, a boy and three men. They were read their 'rights' and the nooses were placed around their necks. The boy couldn't have been older than _ten_! They didn't even have a length of rope long enough to hang him without putting him on a barrel! James had seen him toying with something in his hand and then he had began singing. A chilling song soon picked up by the rest of the pirates there, clanging their chains and stomping their feet, pride, hope and something else - something between resignation and satisfaction - coloring their voices and faces.

As soon as the song had ended, the group up on the gallows was hanged and whatever the boy had been toying with fell to the ground. A piece of eight of some sort. Not like any James had seen used as a currency anywhere, but he had found several of them on other people. On _pirates_. Only on pirates. He did not have the time to ponder the boy's innocence before something unthinkable had happened. The sea had _shuddered_ , over the waves and in the depths, traveling away from Port Royal out at the open sea and beyond at a speed that had left many of James' men as superstitious and weary as ol' Gibbs, all staring wide eyed at the deceptively calm waters. The haunting melody seemed to have been vibrating in the air until every last pirate was hanged from that assembly.

Norrington had gone out of his way to pick up the strange coin that had belonged to the boy, intent on ensuring he at least gets a proper burial and has it with him if he's an orphan or to give it to the boy's poor family, but all such thoughts fled his mind when he felt the coin minutely _vibrating_ in his hand. Startled, James had looked around and hid the coin in his breast pocket when he saw that no one was looking. Later, when he was alone, he had throughly examined the coin, going so far as to press it to his ear. After all, if something vibrated, it tended to make some sound, some noise. At first, he had been ready to huff and snort at himself for such naive thinking. A coin, making noise? Please. But then he had heard it.

The humming.

It was quiet, almost indistinguishable, if you were not listening for it. James had been so startled that he had let the coin drop. The eery feeling that had followed the song returned almost immediately, filling his room swiftly and making him shudder. It felt like a warning. It was a pirate coin, no doubt about it. Only pirates would have something like that, all magical and foreboding. James should have thrown the damned thing away. Just like he should have just stabbed the heart of Davy Jones instead of giving it and all that power to Beckett. But he hadn't and he didn't. Something about the coin _called_ to him. It vibrated more strongly when placed close to his black pearl, so he imagined it reacted stronger to a pirate. It _meant_ something, to them. Just like the chilling song meant something. James didn't think that pirate songs and lore is something to take seriously, or at least he hadn't before meeting Jack Sparrow. But now, now he knew better and he tried to make sense of the meaning behind the words.

A stolen and imprisoned queen? Keys to the cage? Fiddler's green? Bell? Home? Those things made no sense whatsoever. James should have really paid more attention to Elizabeth's and Mr Gibbs' pirate stories. The 'devil' was obviously Jones. Pirates still referred openly to him as such. And a call to all was obviously meant to unite a type of people James had never thought could work together. The Admiral feared for their fate if the pirates could indeed unite and stand together. Flying Dutchman or no Flying Dutchman, the pirates knew the sea better than Beckett, James or any other Navy man, merchant or regular sailor could ever hope. Isla de Muerta was proof enough. The Navy tended to ignore all things fantastical and supernatural, as though that alone will be enough to make them nonexistent. It left them vulnerable and they were not even aware of it.

"Thinkin' 'bout the song, are ye, Admiral?" Said man nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Jones' gravely voice speak behind him. The bigger man, covered in the sea-creatures that now made up his skin, hobbled over to him with a strange sort of limp James would usually associate with a peg leg - not a giant crab leg, as was Jones' case - and a nostalgic look on his face. "It's been a long time since I've heard it or felt it in the sea." His more 'normal' hand gripped the railing in a tight grip that nearly cracked the wood under his hold. "Ya should probably get off this cursed ship and take yer men with ye. A maelstrom is comin' our way."

"You know I will not leave the ship. I was stationed here with a reason." Although he was not at all happy to be anywhere near this man. Something in James' very soul was disgusted with their proximity when Jones was docked in the harbor and James all the way up in Fort Charles, let alone _this_ close. "Besides, I've survived worse before." He said it bitterly, recalling his fall from grace when he had chased Sparrow into a hurricane and had lost his ship and his crew.

Jones laughed cynically and mockingly at him, setting Norrington's nerves on edge and making him grit his teeth. "I wasn't talkin' 'bout the weather, Admiral. And ye've not seen a storm like this just yet." The octopus-faced man snorted. "Then again, it might not come at all. Two of the nine are missing. They can't do nothing without them, by the way of the Code. How easily they are restricted by the very rules they've set. I've forgotten how foolish mortals can be."

"And yet one of those same foolish mortals now holds power over you."

That sent the Captain of the Flying Dutchman into a rage, rounding on Norrington with a scary glare on his face. "Don't think I'll have mercy for ye once I've found a way to free myself of Beckett. Nothing lasts forever, Admiral. Jack Sparrow was the perfect example."

That annoyed Norrington even more than Beckett's constant mentioning of the man. Jones always called on the fact that _he_ had been the one to finally put an end to the legend of Jack Sparrow. He boasted about it at every chance he got and he did it especially so around James, Beckett or other pirates, knowing it would affect them no matter how many times he said it. The pirates reacted because Jack Sparrow was apparently the very embodiment of everything the core of piracy stood for - freedom, a love for the sea and a bottle of rum - and they could not believe a man like that was gone. Beckett had apparently wanted Sparrow at his side almost desperately if he had insisted on the Letters of Marque be for the pirate Captain, although James still didn't know why. It was for the best if he not examine it too closely.

As for James himself, he didn't know. He mused it had something to do with him having a hand in Sparrow's demise, in the end. Guilt. Or maybe it was because Sparrow had been a Curatrix that shared his name - supposing it was his _real_ name - with his Jack. James wasn't sure about the reason why but he always reacted with anger and annoyance. He had not liked Jones since the day he had had the displeasure of meeting the cursed Captain of the Flying Dutchman. It might even have to do something with James' own cracked gem that he kept carefully out of sight at all times. He really didn't know but Jones put him on edge. And Jones' constant boasting about his hand in the fate of the Black Pearl and her eccentric Captain didn't warm him at all for James.

He leveled the larger, older man with a cold, scolding look that somehow managed to look like he was condescendingly looking down his nose at the taller man. An oxymoron in the flesh - and scales. "And yet he seems to be the perfect example that you have failed. He might be dead but his stories live on. The more you mention him, the more he has won. I pity you if you believe you can win in that race. _Everyone_ knows about him and very rare few believe in _you_. I wonder whose stories will last longer?"

He left the fuming cursed sailor behind him as he stalked off towards the chambers given to him aboard this cursed ship, feeling like he had won a great victory.

He swore he felt a fleeting swell of pride on the other side of the strained bond before it was gone.


	22. Chapter 22

The sun was scorching. The heat was scorching. The sand was scorching. The air was scorching. Not a breeze. Not a cloud. Not a drop of water. Not a single shade but the one of his own making and of his ship. Not that he had the _time_ to sit in a shade and rest. He still had a long way to go and he had to get out of here before he goes mad. As helpful as these other Jacks were for hauling the Black Pearl across what seemed to be an endless plane of desert and sand and hard, hard earth - _land_! He really didn't like land right now - Jack Sparrow was becoming tempted to shoot his own self. Other selves? Himself? He wasn't sure _who_ anymore, but he was going to shoot someone.

Bloody Locker.

He wasn't sure how long he had been here, in this hell constructed by Jones and his own worst nightmare, the worst fate he could imagine for himself, stretching out to eternity. It could have been days, it could have been centuries or anything in between and he wouldn't be able to tell. All he knew was that he was in Davy Jones Locker, stuck in this desert with over two dozen copies of himself, talking and needling at each other, throwing about comments and orders and sometimes insults like rice at a wedding. It had become annoying a long time ago but he knew, if they were to shut up, they would up and disappear and the already impossible task at hand would become even more so. A ship was not meant to be dragged across dry land. Thank whoever was listening that the action was not leaving any marks or damage to her hull.

And thank the _gods_ that he was so powerful that the physical extension and representation of his own soul had somehow become a spirit of her own. He would have gone _mad_ if he could not tune out the other Jacks like he could when he focused on her. She would either sing to him or they would talk for hours on end - at least he _thought_ it was hours - as he hauled her along. The Pearl always apologized that she could not do more but he dismissed those apologies as unnecessary and completely unneeded. They would have been in a lot more trouble had he not been a Curatrix, though, and had he not received a full crew of himselves as torment. As it were, he was the Captain and a Curatrix, meaning all his other selves were as well, and he had ordered them to help him haul his beloved vessel across the desert. They had been at it almost since day one - he had needed a little time getting used to this place, his disconnection with other living things, the lack of people, water, wind, no need to eat or drink and a never ending hot day - holding onto the Pearl's lines and using their powerful wings to tug. They have made an interesting, astonishing amount of progress from where Jack had first woken up to the spot they were 'today' and the sight of the long dragged line made by the hull behind them was well worth the occasional weakness that overtook him.

The worst part of those spells was that his other selves would immediately stop pulling and instead start 'working' on the Pearl as if she were not marooned in the Locker, on _land_ with no _wind_. His lady love could not get them to listen to her and she would just use one of the discarded lines to pull Jack into her shadow so he can properly rest. He would then wake up, who knows how much later and would have to make them release the lines they were going to use to pull all over again before they started pulling again. Pulling a ship on land was hard, a miracle if you manage just a few feet, no matter how many men did the pulling. He had managed at the least somewhere around twenty miles and there was still a ways to go.

One might wonder how he knew which way to go. It was not easy to pick a direction, especially since his Compass could not show him. He wanted _freedom_ but the Locker had a way of messing with his Compass and the very definition of freedom became warped. Was he not allowed to go where he wanted, say what he wanted, do what he wanted and no one was to shackle, enslave or hang him? In his own personal hell, he could do as he pleased. He wanted _life_ but he was not dead. Not really. He was just stuck between the two, in a limbo where lost souls roamed without the ferry to take them across, like the Flying Dutchman was meant to do. He wanted _the world of the living_ and the Compass would spin in circles until he pointed it vertically, occasionally showing up and sometimes down, as though it could not decide which way it was. Even when he thought _Jamie_ , it would just point towards his black pearl that was his gem.

It was in a strange predicament, his gem. It had always been weird and one of a kind. Even Tia Dalma told him she had not met a person or heard of them to be born with a black pearl to serve as the gem instead of a crystal or mineral. But that was not what was weird. Well, not anymore; he was used to it by now. No, what was weird and strange and worrisome and troublesome was the fact that the black pearl had been cracked when he had first awoken in the Locker, what seemed like too long ago. The cracks were not just visible, like a mirage that they should have been had they been a warning that his Tutela was in danger or dying. They were actually _there_. He could feel them under his fingertips. He knew that wasn't supposed to happen. And the bond it represented was fragile, stretched, _strained_. As though it might snap any day now. He figured it was the Locker's doing. He _was_ somewhere between life and death. The bond was never meant to be dragged and stretched like this. It could cover any amount of distance but it could not travel through different worlds. That was why people can not sense their other half after death takes one of them.

Death was the final frontier and that was the one divide the bond could not cover. It snapped, in a sense. At least the sensing part did. It never _truly_ snaps or is severed until one or the other partner is the cause of the other's death.

It was probably Jack's own stubbornness and unwillingness to let James go that still even kept their bond in one piece. James had been one of the three people - and one beastie - responsible for Jack's 'death'. Even though he had not crossed into _those_ waters yet, James had had a hand in chasing him out of the land of the living and as such, their bond should have snapped long before Jack had woken up in the Locker. But Jack did not want to lose his Tutela. He had seen the pain and suffering of a severed bond. For all that his father had loved his mother and then himself - she had died not long after giving birth to him, so he had become the most precious thing in his Da's world - a special place is reserved in the heart of every Curatrix for their Tutela. Even after his charge had tried to kill Jack, his Da still mourned the loss of their bond. Jack did not want to go through that anymore than he had wanted to do the Pearl's idea about _her_ being the sacrifice and _him_ living to find a way to get her back to his side again.

His connection to the world of the living, as minute and muted as it was, was still remarkable. A miracle, even. He should not have been able to feel anything from the other side at all, and yet he still at times felt some things, even those not connected to his Tutela. He could feel when a large amount of souls was sent to their watery grave and he could sense when there was some large battle going on. He had once sensed an earthquake, although he could not tell where.

And he had sensed the song. Had sang along with it, letting the chilling melody vibrate through his own piece of eight in his coat and through his Piece of Eight, one of the nine and giving him the status of one of the Pirate Lords, resting on his head. The vibe had stirred the stillness of the Locker and it had made hauling his beloved ship easier, even if only temporarily.

It had also helped him find the wind he was following easier. You must be wondering 'What wind?' right about now, when you know there was not a breeze in his personal hell. Well, Jack could _make_ wind. He was in possession of a small, stone head statuette that he had been gifted with by a tribe on Easter Island. He had not at first known what it does but he had felt its magic and had as such kept it close to his person. Besides, he knew it had to be important or valuable if a siren was willing to trade the Deep Sea Opal for it. It was a good thing he had been once been really bored and had made several copies of it himself and carried _those_ around, too, usually to be used in a slingshot - they had _great_ aerodynamics, as it turned out - when he ran out of ammunition or lost his weapons. He had simply used his charm in distracting her - and she had been plenty distracted herself, trying to charm _him_ \- while he swapped the real one and the fake one he had made, leaving traces of his own power in it in order to further fool her, at least long enough for him and his companions to escape. He only later learned from Tia Dalma just what sort of power it held and he had never let it out of his sight again.

So, he was in possession of a statue which controlled wind. However, not even _it_ could make wind blow in the Locker. Well, not how it was _supposed_ to, anyway. It can generate barely a breeze but _only_ in the direction in which the way towards the gates to the living world were, something Jack figured out only because there was some _feeling_ other than nothingness in the wind. And it smelled of the sea. Not any sea he had sailed on before but he figured the limbo between life and death wasn't exactly like anything in the world of the living. He was planning on comparing the differences between the sea here and the sea back in the world of the living.

"Tie her off!"

"Hard port!"

"Hold on!"

"Strike your colors, you blooming cockroaches!"

If he stayed sane long enough, that is. He rolled his eyes at the nonsense being shouted around and over him. What 'hard port'? There was no bloody water to 'hard port' on! They were on bloody dirt and sand! Gods, he missed the sea. But if he wanted to get to sea, he would have to haul her a lot more.

"Dead men tell no tales."

"Step alive with a will!" He finally shouted, eager to be rid of this madness. He needs them for work or else he would have blown them all off long ago. He wasn't even sure whether they were all really there or if they were just apparitions that were trying to drive him mad with their chatter. He wasn't really _that_ annoying, was he? No. He rarely indulged people with this much talking on his part, as they usually wanted to ask about his past. He'd rather waste his breathe on the Brethren Court than tell people tales they won't believe.

"Aye, aye!"

"Right away, sir, Captain, sir!"

"Haul!" He ordered and gave a mighty flap of his wings, hearing dozens of echoes as his copies did the same, if not with the same amount of strength - they were copies, what can you expect? As always, there was resistance but the Pearl was moving slowly, inch by inch, pulled and tugged and hauled and dragged by her Captain.

"Haul! Haul!" The other Jacks chanted as they pulled the Black Pearl along. Jack hoped he won't have to do this for eternity. He was getting tired already. But he had to work or else the others won't work. Not on this. They'd go back to annoying his lass with repeating the same actions over and over again. They'd probably drive them both to madness and Jack needed his wits about him when it is finally time for him to return to the world of the living. If the song has been sang, the nine Pirate Lords will soon be needed. What they will do about Barbossa, Jack wasn't sure, but he knew _he_ was going to come. Not only was he a Pirate Lord, but he was the Keeper's own son, his _Heir_. If he didn't honor the Code, who will? Besides, he wants to see his Da again. He wants to see his _charge_ again! He can't do that if he's stuck here!

He wants to see the stars, feel the breeze on his face again. He sighed and landed down on the ground for a rest. The other Jack's immediately sprang to go about ship business and he sighed. He fluffed up his wings and was disappointed when there was nothing to ruffle them. "No wind." He sighed again, taking out the little stone head figurine. "Of course there's no bloody wind." He looked out at the wasteland ahead and felt frustration spike. "My soul I do swear for a breeze." He muttered under his breath, rubbing at his forehead, when he felt indeed the slightest of breezes brush his hair and touch his wings. So sensitive were the tips of his flight feathers that he sensed it almost like a punch in the gut and his head snapped up, tension bleeding out of his frame as the breeze washed over his face before it was gone.

He stepped forward in the direction he had felt the breeze, only a gust, a wisp of wind, really, only to freeze when his foot bumped into something he was sure had not been there before. He looked down and stared at something he had not seen since last being on land - _real_ land - on Isla Cruces. A rock. A fine, pretty, completely white rock, but a rock none the less. All round and ... rocky. Only it radiates magic when he picks it up. He inspects it, trying to understand why _this_ was here and why it was pulling on all his senses. It smelled of sea when he sniffed it and it tasted like a salted rock when he licked it - this was the first change in scenery he has had since he arrived here. Give him some slack! Definitely a sea rock in origin. But it was heavy with magic. And it looked ... sort of familiar, now that he thought about it. Had he seen it somewhere before? He must have, otherwise it wouldn't be familiar.

He tossed it away with a yelp when it wiggled in his hand, watching with wide eyes as it _transformed_ into a strange, white crab he was _sure_ he had seen somewhere before. Yes. Right. Tia Dalma, of course. How had he forgotten? He glanced up to where the other Jacks were working on the Pearl and wondered just how long he had been here and how badly the Locker has affected him if he had forgotten Calypso's stone crabs. Or was it crab stones? Not important. He'd seen them scuttering about Tia Dalma's shack enough times in his life that he should have recognized it immediately. He knew them about as well as he knew Tia Dalma herself.

That did not stop him from being weirded out at the way it was just _staring_ at him. Creepy crab. "Shoo." He told it, making the appropriate hand motions, only half wondering what Tia Dalma's crab was doing here and what it wanted from him. He sighed and walked towards where there was one last line still not tied by the overenthusiastic fakes of himself. He'd rather rest his wings a little before he needs to start hauling the entire ship again. He ignored the strange creature until he sensed it coming in too close and he whirled around, only to see it had returned to being a rock again. "A rock." He snorted to himself. "Now we're being followed by rocks." He told his Pearl and she giggled in his mind at the absurdity of their situation. They were in a godforsaken desert, who knows how far away from the sea, he was dragging her all on his onsies and an annoying dozen of clones and now they were being followed by a _rock_. A creepy crab rock, at that. "Never had that before."

Ignoring the creature again, he hauled himself up onto the main deck, taking in a deep breath in order to start yelling at the useless copies again when he felt a tidal wave of magic swarm towards his ship. He paused and looked down, over the railing, eyes widening when he saw hundreds of the same type of crabs as the one that had been following him rushing towards the hull. "Crap!" Had he offended it and it had called all its little friends to seek vengeance.

He was about to jump down and try to save his lady love when the Pearl _lurched_ forwards, as though a thousand Jacks were pulling her. All his copies scrambled to find their footing, not sure what was going on beyond the fact that they were _moving_. God bless those stony little crab creatures! It almost felt as though they were _sailing_ , on the water. Only there was still no water in sight. But the movement, although slow, was steady and smooth, the crabs serving as a wave to keep the Pearl upright, not letting the hull drag but rather _glide_ over the unexpected little helpers.

When he looked back up to his own level, he found the same crab that had stared at him before on the railing beside him. It was excitedly clicking its claws, as though happy and proud to have helped. Jack must have been projecting his charm in his excitement unconsciously, if the little creature was this excited. Laughing, he scooped it up and placed it on his left shoulder, well away from the dreadlock to which his black pearl of a gem was tied - which was at the end of the longest lovelock on the right side - giving it a little pet before he turned to his bewildered selves. He took in a deep breath and ordered-yelled for quiet. As soon as they were quiet for longer than ten seconds, some of them already started fading and popping out of existence, making the real Jack grin. "Gentlemen," he addressed his copies with a flourish, flamboyant bow. " i wash my hands of this weirdness."

When he straightened up, they were already gone and, with an excited, triumphant laugh, he leaped into the air and settled on the cross of the top mainmast, right next to his bellowing black flag with a sideways skull, crossed bones and a red little sparrow. There was a breeze up here. At least, there was _now_.

"Pearl, my love, heart of my heart, apple of my eye," he told his ship affectionately with a pat to the black mainmast under his hand. "It seems that we are going home." She only purred in response and he grinned.

Let's see if the world was ready to have Captain Jack Sparrow and his Black Pearl back.


	23. Chapter 23

The beach they washed up on was not promising. Not promising at all. It didn't look particularly ominous, save for the wreckage of their ship, considering they had fallen off of the End of the World and all that. That was perhaps the most terrifying experience any of the surviving crew of the Black Pearl and Tai Huang's men have ever faced to date and some of them were shaking all over. Dry land came as a sort of sanctuary after what they've just been through.

Looking around, they saw nothing and no one, the beach stretching for miles on both left and on right. A huge sand dune blocked the rest of their view of what evils the Locker might contain but they shuddered at the mere thought of it. They'd rather not find out at all, but just sitting around like this will not help them find Jack. And hopefully the Black Pearl,too, for they will need a vessel to get back. At least they _thought_ they will need one. In all honesty, _none_ of them knew the way back. Not even Tia Dalma, for the Locker was only in Davy Jones' jurisdiction and only the Flying Dutchman sailed these waters.

Exhausted and scared, tired and wet, things were not looking good. Gibbs looked around, a shudder working its way under his skin despite the heat coming from what appeared to be a desert beyond the giant dune of sand. "This is truly a godforsaken place." He tries to locate any sign or hint that his Captain is about, but there was nothing to indicate _anyone_ besides them is here.

"I don't see Jack," Elizabeth voices his thoughts, her tone shaky. She was desperately searching for the man she had doomed a year ago in a desperate attempt to save her life and the lives of the others here present. She was still burdened by guilt every day and haunted by it every night in her dreams. She just wanted to find him and end her own torture. Seeing him alive was bound to make her feel better. "I don't see _anyone_." And that only made her feel worse. She had imagined something like those theatrical representations of hell, where at least people suffered together. Being alone? That sounded far worse. Especially for someone like Jack, who relished in the attention of others.

"Not a soul," Marty agreed before wincing as he realized what he had said and how Sparrow had gotten into this situation in the first place.

"He is here," Barbossa said confidently, coming to stand in front of them all, gazing out at the sand, half expecting Sparrow to stalk up the sand dune and wave at them or roll down like a piglet. "Davy Jones never once gave up that what he's took." And Sparrow was about to be the first to steal himself back from the Locker. Bloody bastard will only get another legend made up about him.

Will was suddenly in his face, rage coursing through his body and making his eyes stormy. "And what does it matter? We are trapped here, by your doing, no better than Jack!" He glared at the older man, who was not intimidated in the least. "And we don't even know where he is! He could be anywhere! We could be searching for days, months, _years_!"

"Witty Jack," Tia Dalma said with a pleased grin on her face, petting one of the dozens of crabs that were crawling under her skirt. She ignored the gawking of Pintel and Ragetti and the skittishness of Barbossa's monkey. "Be closer dan ye think."

Before anyone could ask her what she meant, they heard a strange sound, like something being dragged over sand or gravel and they looked up, eyes wide. Because there he was, Captain Jack Sparrow himself, eyes closed and enjoying the breeze as his Black Pearl impossibly sailed through the sand like it was water, up the dune and then sliding down towards the water, all dramatic, awesome like as he stood on the cross of the top mainmast. Tai Huang and his men were gawking as they feasted their eyes on the impossibleness that was Captain Jack Sparrow while his friends and crew were excited and relieved to see him. Will and Elizabeth and Gibbs wore downright giddy grins and not even Barbossa could hide his own smile at the sight of the Curatrix and his ship.

"Impossible," the leader of the Singapore pirates breathed, not seeing any possible way that this could be happening. It went against every natural law for a ship to sail on dry land, even if this _was_ the Locker.

They watched the Pearl elegantly slide into the water from the backs of thousands of those same white crabs that seemed to be drawn to Tia Dalma, Jack never once losing his balance, even with the rough transaction from unresisting sand under crabs to the waves of the sea. "Boat." Ragetti pointed out unnecessarily, pointing rudely at the black ship. He better hope neither Captain nor ship heard him call her that or else his life is going to be one _hell_ of a lot more difficult.

"Slap me trice and hand me to me momma! It's Jack!" Gibbs exclaimed, almost like a prayer, rushing forwards towards the guardian, who was flying towards shore while dragging a long boat behind himself, no doubt for them to take back to the ship. He, Marty, Mr Cotton, Pintel and Ragetti ran all the way to the Curatrix but Barbossa, Tia Dalma and Will held back, all for their own, rather different reasons. Barbossa wasn't sure of what reception he will receive, Tia Dalma was waiting for all her crabs to come back to her before she would approach and Will ... Well, Will had a plan in mind he feared Jack might sense or anticipate in some way. He had learned a little about Curatrix and the more powerful ones were said to occasionally possess the ability to anticipate someone's intentions. That would mean his plan was useless, if Jack indeed possessed such an ability.

Elizabeth also made to run to meet the returned Curatrix, only to remember herself. She had killed him. He had to hate her now. And then there was Will, who refused to even speak about Jack. She assumed it had to do with his father, but they've not been talking for a long while and they had actually only recently figured it out, when there was no more planning or scheming to be done.

"It's the Captain!"

"A sight for sore eyes!"

"Arrrrgh! Hide the rum! Arrrgh!"

"We're saved!"

Such were the greetings when Jack touched down and started walking towards his crew, drawing him up short before he smiled at the lot. Gibbs was approaching him with arms stretched, as if to hug him, and Jack folded his wings to allow it. It had been far too long since he'd had any human contact or any contact at all, besides with his ship. It was also refreshing to hear voices other than his own or the Pearl's. For all that he loved listening to her, he would have gone _mad_.

"Mr Gibbs," he said authoritatively when the hug ended and the old sailor stood to attention, as though he were still in the Navy. Jack snorted. You can take a man out of the Navy, but you can never take the Navy out of the man. Not completely, at the very least.

"Capt'n."

"What are you lot doing here?" The Curatrix asked, taking stock of all his secret protectees - this was the first crew he'd become attached to since he became an official Captain, some twenty years ago; _excuse_ him for wanting to keep them safe - and finding that there was one more than he expected wasn't even all that surprising. Tia Dalma would obviously need Barbossa. Never mind that he had nearly killed Jack a couple of times and it had been a decade long pain to kill him due to the Aztec gold curse. "Not that I'm not grateful - you've saved me plenty of hauling across that godforsaken desert - but I'm plenty sure you shouldn't be in the Locker."

"So I were right and ye're farin' a lot better than we could've hoped," Barbossa said by way of greeting as he stalked towards Sparrow, the rest of the survivors of falling from World's End coming in behind him after him, eager to see what was going to happen. "Jack Sparrow." He nodded to his fellow Pirate Lord, eying the Captain he had once long ago betrayed and waiting for the slightest of sings that he might be shot. Again. Jack had always been frighteningly precise and fast where guns were concerned. Probably had something to do with that one stint of his a little more inland on the west coast. Or was it in Mexico? He'd been in both.

"Ah, Hector!" Jack grinned, delighted and surprised and a little relieved. Sure, he still didn't like his traitorous first mate - he had _marooned_ him and _stole his item_ \- but he could feel Barbossa again and the man felt like when they'd first started adventuring together, long before the mutiny and the Aztec curse. "It's been too long."

"Yes. Isla de Muerta, remember? You shot me."

"That I did, but that's not what I meant, mate." Sparrow grinned at the older man's stupefied expression. "Good to have you back. Tia Dalma!" He moved on before Hector could say anything else, pausing to kiss her cheek before he had his face framed by the voodoo witch's hands. He let her examine him and grinned at her, sending her a cheeky wink, well aware that the whelp was already deducing he had gone mad. Let him think what he likes. "Out and about, I see. And all it took is ol' Jack being stuck in this godforsaken place for-" He cut himself off, frowning. "Just how _long_ have I actually _been_ here? I couldn't tell. No day or night cycles in the Locker."

"A year." Tia Dalme replied with a nod, finding nothing but clarity in the Curatrix's eyes, except maybe some tiredness. He was bound to be better soon enough, when they let him get some sleep. A crab peeked out from behind the pirate's dreadlocks and Tia Dalma stared at it before shooting Jack an incredulous look. "Ye dragged de Pearl _how_ much?"

"Twenty miles, I think. Now it seems so little, knowing I had an entire year." Never mind that it was supposed to be _impossible_. "Now why have you lot come all this way, risking life, limb and freedom, in order to look for me? It seems a bit unreal to me, you lot caring that much for ol' Jack."

"Jack," he stiffened at the sound of her voice and Elizabeth flinched as though she had been struck. It was much worse than she thought if he reacted like that just to the sound of his voice. The way his face was so carefully blank didn't bode very well for their relationship, whatever it might be. "This is real. We've come to rescue you-"

" _You_ rescue _me_?" He repeated almost snidely. "Have you now? How kind of you. But it would seem as I possess a ship and you _don't_ ," And didn't his lady just _delight_ in the way he was speaking to his murderess. He needed to check if the Black Pearl needed anger management consultation. "You're the ones in need of rescuing and I'm not sure as I'm in the mood."

They gawked at him as though he had spurt another head. Barbossa arched his eyebrow challengingly and pointed at the Black Pearl some distance away, impatiently awaiting her Captain's return so they could get the hell out of here. "I see _my_ ship. Right there."

Without bothering to hide his aggressiveness, Jack spread his massive wings again and returned the challenging stare. "Really?" He looked over his shoulder searchingly, going as far as to squint and block out the sun with a hand over his brow. "Can't spot it. Must be a tiny little thing behind the Pearl." His flag blew harder as if the confirm it and Jack turned around to face his once first mate with a mockingly apologetic shrug.

Seeing that the two captains of the Black ship were about to go at it - and that might last a while - Will stepped in before they could even start, speaking almost beseechingly to the younger of the two. "Jack, listen. Cutler Beckett has the heart of Davy Jones. He controls the Flying Dutchman."

"He's taking control of the sea!" Elizabeth joined in, the two closing in on the tanned pirate Captain, as if proximity will express how grave the situation was.

"De song has been sung. De Brethren Court is called." Tia Dalma pipped in with her own two cents, as determined - or was it desperate - to get Jack to understand and agree as the young ones. They followed Jack step for step as they talked, indeed sticking to the 'proximity translates to graveness' theory. Jack, although half starved for human touch, was feeling a little overwhelmed by it right now. It was like when you don't eat or drink water for too long. You are ravenous for it but if you don't take it in doses, the food or water will make you sick. Bloody hell, how was he supposed to last however long this journey was to take with them all crowding his space without snapping at them for it?

He took a few more steps away from them, desperate for some space. "I leave you folk alone for just a minute and look what happens." Seriously, though. A year and _this_ big of a mess develops in his absence? And they expect _him_ to miraculously save the day? Bugger.

"Aye, Jack." Gibbs agrees, sincere. "The world needs you back somethin' fierce."

"And you need a crew." Gibbs scowls at Will, especially so when Jack whirls around, a truly angry expression on his face for the first time since Isla de Muerta. Tai Huang and his men step back, intimidated by the suddenly looming form of the guardian. The black wings, each one as big as - if not bigger - a grown man, were quite scary when you remembered the sort of power they ought to represent in a Curatrix.

"Why should I sail with any of _you_?" He demanded in a mocking tone, sardonic to the bone. "Four of you tried to kill me in the past." He gestures vaguely in Elizabeth's direction that you could not exactly tell where he was pointing at but his burning black eyes had picked her out and they knew he was talking about her. "One of you succeeded." If they needed any proof, seeing her guilt ridden face when they looked at her said it all. At the startled look on Will's - and everyone else's - face, he leers knowingly at the couple. "Oh, she hasn't told you? Then you'll have _much_ to talk about while you're here." He turns suspicious eyes on Tia Dalma next, having a pretty good idea what she was doing here. He was not born yesterday, you know. "As for you-"

"Are ye goin' ta leave a good, old friend behind, ma Witty Jack?" She said as she sidled up to him but he only arched an eyebrow. He was a Curatrix and he had a Tutela to find. He had no delusions about just _how_ Beckett got his grubby little hands on the heart and his Jamie might be in more danger than he realized. Seeing his look, she dropped the flirt and went to business. "I can help ye get yer P̣hāra back, safe an' sound."

"Alright, you're in." He might need her help. You never know. Besides, anything could happen to his Commodore until he gets back to the world of the living. A little help is always welcome. He went down the line of his gathered crew, rather touched that his two year crew had come on this dangerous journey. Gibbs, he had no doubt about and had half expected him to come venturing for ways to help him - he wondered briefly if Gibbs had notified his family; he rather hoped not. His Da would be impossible to get rid of once he returns if so - but Marty and Mr Cotton did not hold so much history with him as to have such a level of loyalty for him. The two idiots ... Well, they were always loyal to either him or Barbossa. He'll have to keep a sharper eye on them. "Gibbs, welcome aboard. Marty. Mr Cotton. Mr Cotton's parrot I'm a little iffy but at least I'll have someone to talk to."

"Aarrrrrgh! Captain on the deck! Aaaaarrrrrrrrgh!"

"Good man-er bird." Mr Cotton just nodded in satisfaction and some of the tension that had been present since Jack's death and the horrors that followed evaporated. As was expected, the Curatrix's presence has improved the mood greatly. "I don't really need you and you scare me in the night," Jack continued, pointing to Ragetti and Pintel respectively, heaving a sigh. "But I need hands and you know the Pearl about as well as I can hope for two idiots to. Just don't bugger it up." He moved on from the two beaming idiots and came face to face with a bunch of Singapore pirates, one of whom he swore he had seen before at Sao Feng's side. He must have been of a much lower status back then, because the Pirate Lord of the South China Sea had not bothered to introduce him to Jack, only his lovely twin bodyguards. Ah, they were a blast to be around. Too bad them falling in love with Jack started Sao Feng's jealous and hatred for him. Really, he should have known what was going to happen if he went against a man capable of getting him the Deep Sea Opal without getting cursed in the process. Idiot. You make a bloke a Pirate Lord and he goes and repays you like that. Real ungrateful, if you ask him.

"Captain Sparrow." The vaguely familiar man, obviously the leader, said by way of greeting.

"And who are you?" Jack asked suspiciously. His Grandmama had imparted one important lesson on him that he remembered better than any of the beatings she gave him and that was 'Never trust a man from Singapore'. He'd be a right fool to not listen to such sound advice. Especially after his dealings with the Pirate Lords of Singapore. Yes, the previous and the current one. You need to be a special kind of ... Jack doesn't want to express the right word here for he is at least that polite and well mannered, but the point is, not everyone can be in that position. You had to be ready to spill your own family's blood if you wanted to be the Pirate Lord of Singapore. True loyalty amongst that ilk of pirates was as rare as diamonds.

"I'm Tai Huang." The man introduced himself, jerking his head a little to the side, to indicate over his shoulder at the men behind him. "These are my men."

"Where do your allegiances lie?" If they were _his_ men, then they were loyal to him first, as long as they have a profit from him. Something smelled fishy here and it wasn't just the crab playing with his dreadlocks on his shoulder. Maybe he'd been away from humanity too long if it was so hard to discern their intentions.

"With the highest bitter."

 _'That's dangerous.'_ Jack didn't show his suspicion on his face, smiling brightly instead. "I have a ship."

"That makes you the highest bitter." Tai Huang said with a fake eager to please smile and Jack eyed him suspiciously. He doesn't really have a choice. He needs men. He faked a satisfied expression and gestured for them to get aboard.

"Weight anchor!" He called after them and his own crew. "All hands! Stand by to make way." He pauses, hand automatically reaching for his Compass when he remembers that it doesn't work here and he scowls. He can sense Barbossa's smugness before he speaks.

"Ja-ack." He reluctantly turns to look at his first mate, Elizabeth and Will flanking his sides, the cursed undead monkey chittering mockingly at him. "Which way ya goin', Jack?" He asks mockingly, holding up the Mao Kun map.

Jack guessed it was worth it to take them aboard if he can get his hands on the ancient charts.


	24. Chapter 24

The first day of sailing went uneventful enough, save for Elizabeth and William being in a finally official lover's quarrel, not even so much as looking at each other and staying on opposite sides of the ship. This at least was helped by the fact that Elizabeth and Tia Dalma had the forecastle all to themselves and Will had to sleep with the rest of the crew. The day was uneventful, the shore on which Jack's section of the Locker was located already far away, no wind but at least not as scorching as it had been in the desert. The sea was still and yet they sailed, finding little respite under the unrelenting 'sun'. Relief only came when night fell.

Jack had never been so relieved to see the stars and the black, black sky as he had been that first night. Not even bickering with Barbossa had been able to sour his mood and he was actually glad for the engaging company. At least the older man knew better than to try and claim the Pearl as his ship again. Jack wasn't sure which lady had made him back off: Tia Dalma (for she no doubt had a hand in his resurrection) or the Black Pearl herself had spoken to the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea to make him back off. Judging by the way Barbossa very carefully did not look at Jack in too bad a way and the way he refrained from touching the black wood more than was necessary, it was quite possible _both_ had torn him a new one.

It apparently paid off to have charm and be a ladies' man.

The night did not remain peaceful, though. At what might have been midnight, Ragetti and Pintel brought to everyone's attention the souls adrift in the still, still sea under the boat, ghostly figures without a face or any defining features, sentenced to drift aimlessly forever, if Davy Jones does not go back to his duties as a ferryman, the duty given to him by the sea goddess, Calypso herself. Jack was not on board with the way she was looking at Will as she spoke of this, or when she told him you must sacrifice that which you hold dear to get something else while Elizabeth was trying to talk to her dead father.

Governor Swann seemed to be content, simply smiling up at his daughter and telling her how much he loved her or how proud of her he was. Said young woman was only getting more and more distressed and she nearly jumped in after him, had William not caught her and held her tight, their argument forgotten as she cried against his chest.

"Is there nothing you can do for him?" The former blacksmith asks of the voodoo mistress. "Is there a way?" But the woman only shakes her head sadly.

"He is at peace."

"No," Elizabeth whimpers and something tugs at Jack's heart. Suddenly, it no longer mattered that she had killed him - it never really had. He would have made that same sacrifice on his own. What had really mattered was that she had _shackled_ him, taken away his freedom, practically all but _clipped his wings_. She had known how much freedom meant to him - he had even told her as much, on Rummer's Island - but she had done what was best by her and he had forgiven her long before he had faced the Kraken. She may not be his Tutela, but she was his protectee and his friend. She was in obvious pain and, in comparison to what _he_ would have to give, one life was entirely more precious.

He spread his wings and took off like a bat out of hell, startling the crew of the Pearl and the souls that were trying to find their own way to the world beyond, the people finally looking up. The sight of the Curatrix in flight seemed to bring back some awareness into their eyes, but it faded soon enough. Jack did not focus on them and he ignored the confusion going on on the deck of his ship - she herself was huffing and puffing at him for this risky maneuver but did not begrudge him - instead zeroing in on the form of one Weatherby Swann. He dived like a hunting eagle and plucked up the man just as easily, bulking only slightly under his weight. Elizabeth was definitely a preferable passenger by far, but Weatherby was lighter than a ship by ten times as much, if not more. He extinguished the lamp on the boat and it disappeared into the mist, becoming a part of it even as he turned back around.

He didn't have the smoothest of landings, because, at his touch, the once Governor came alive and started panicking. He grit his teeth and pinned the trashing man to the black floorboards of the main deck before reaching with one hand towards his wing. The good Governor needs something that was currently in the same state as him - astral - but which was solid and alive but a soul none the less in order for the man to go back to being the same. The wings of a guardian may be an angelic trait passed on to a Curatrix, but they were still solid and humans could touch or harm them. They were the extension of a Curatrix's soul made solid on their backs. Governor Weatherby Swann, dead as he was, was now only a drifting soul, solid only under Jack's hand as a guardian was not exactly human. But with one of his feathers, the chubby older man can get a second chance at life. Not many guardians can do this - mostly because their wing span must be over nine feet and it would have to be done some place where death and life overlap and there aren't many places like that in the world - but Jack had the opportune set of circumstances to do it and he didn't hesitate to pluck out a feather, locate the man's gem - a pretty jade stone in a square shape - and let it absorb the black feather.

The night was lit up with a green flash the same shade as the jade before Jack was doubled over, panting in exhaustion while Swann tried to get his own breathing back to normal, not quite used to being alive again. Startled brown eyes landed on the tired guardian before they looked up at the sound of approaching feet. Not a moment later, his relieved daughter was hugging him, thanking every god she could think of that she had not lost him as well. Tia Dalma, on the other hand, was busy scolding the Captain of the Black Pearl as she helped him sit up, letting him rest his weary head on her shoulder and gently stroking his hair, careful not to touch his wings. They were going to be sensitive. He had just given a small portion of his divine heritage to a human to restore his life. Until that small part is restored with rest, he will be too sensitive to take much contact with his wings. He was too exhausted for the type of sensitivity that this produces.

"Ye're a foolish man, Jack Sparra. Damn foolish."

"A foolish man, aye, but a foolish man who had done the improbable." He answered her with a cheeky grin and a shudder as he furled his wings. He was indeed sensitive and even that natural, simple motion had caused quite a reaction. It felt like just the right amount of electricity had coursed through him, setting alight all his nerves in such a pleasurable tingle that his year long celibacy was starting to bother him. Bugger.

"Jack," he looked up at hearing Elizabeth's voice, all quavery and weak and trembling and teary, so unlike the confidant young woman he had come to know. She was staring at him as though he had gifted her with the world. Governor Swann, though, was staring at Jack's black pearl in his hair. Before he could contemplate why, Elizabeth flung herself at him and he barely caught them both in time, saving Tia Dalma an unsavory death by squashing. The little white crab tittered in displeasure, hiding further into his hair and clinging to a lock. "Jack." Miss Swann sobbed under his throat as he reluctantly pulled her into a hug. "I'm so, so, so _sorry_ and so, so, so _grateful_. I'm sorry for what I did to you and thank you for what you did for _me_. I don't deserve it-"

"It's not 'bout bein' deserving, Lizzie. It's what friends do." He interrupted her with a sigh, petting her hair to calm her down. "Easy now, luv. It's all goin' to be alright."

And for the first time in a year, that did not feel like a lie.

To anyone.

00000

James stared. He could not help it. His gem was always a unique thing and it always had the ability to hold his attention far better than anything else in the world save for the person on the other end of the bond that this very 'gem' represented. But this was different. Even weirder than the physical cracks on his gem that had been present constantly for an entire year and some weeks.

The cracks were receding, hour by hour, slowly, day in and day out. With every dawn, more of the too deep cracks were healing in his black pearl and by every night, a little more of its gleam and light returned. The bond was as hazy and weak as before but James was startled to realize he no longer felt empty. He would not have realized that he was doing better had those two idiots, Mr Murtogg and Mr Mullroy, not commented that he looked better than he had in two years. He had started, searched for the first reflective surface and seen that they were indeed right. He looked healthier and livelier than he had since the sinking of his Dauntless and the massive death of her crew and since he had started drinking away his worries, shame and pain, when he had first lost any true 'contact' with his guardian in his life. He had forgotten how he looked like with a flame of life in his eyes.

He had forgotten how it felt to have a dash of hope to cling on to.

Whatever had ailed the bond was receding, falling back, going away, being healed, whatever you want to call it. It was getting stronger by the day and James could not help but stare off into the sky or out at the horizon, expecting a flying figure with big wings to appear in the distance and swoop down to stand by his side, healthy and happy and perfectly fine. He knew it was probably foolish to expect as much. They were three days away from shore even by the Flying Dutchman's speed and no Curatrix can fly that long without sufficient rest along the way. And since there were no islands or other stops along the way - and since he doubted _any_ Curatrix, especially a pirate one, would dare so boldly land on a Navy or privateer ship and ask for momentary refuge - he knew there was no way anyone would _attempt_ such a tiresome endeavor in the first place.

Reason did not stop him at times distractedly watching, keeping a weather eye on the horizon, expecting, _waiting_.

Jones catches him doing it too often for him to be comfortable. He'd give him a half pitying and half sneering look, as displeased and unfond of James as James was of him. He would rarely mock the Admiral with words, but sometimes the looks he sends his way are more than enough and they make James' blood boil. He still wasn't sure why he hated Jones, beyond his cruelty and immorality and sending the Kraken after Sparrow, the Black Pearl and thus all who were on her at the time, but hate him James did. Oh so much. He wasn't even sure what to do about it anymore. He couldn't quite ignore it as well as he'd hope. Especially not if he wanted to keep the secret of his gem to himself. It was becoming tiring to have to always look over his shoulder.

He desperately wished for his Lieutenants to be by his side, but Beckett knew he was fond of them and he knew how to use them against him. He hadn't wanted to be placed on the Flying Dutchman. He'd rather sail on a sloop that could be turned over with the slightest breeze, but he didn't get to choose. Beckett wanted Jones to stop killing all the pirates because he still wanted them interrogated regarding this Brethren Court, the Pieces of Eight and wherever they were meeting. The only way to reign in a loose cannon was to put binds and restrictions on it, so Beckett had ordered the heart to be brought aboard the ship and it was apparently James' duty to make sure everyone behaved while still continuing his hunt. Jones was no more happy about their predicament than James was, but he was an Admiral and Beckett was the Lord who had ensured his promotion. With whatever power he had over Governor Swann, James' patron in these waters, and his own influence, James was as much a puppet on strings as the merchants who now paid taxes to the East India Trading Company.

He rather preferred scrubbing the Pearl's deck than his current situation.

But he stayed. He could have left and yet he stayed. He stayed because someone needed to watch over Governor Swann. But the man was now off to England, from what he'd heard. So James stayed for his men, to make sure that Beckett will not lead them to their deaths. What did the pompous little Lord even _know_ about the Navy and sailing? He was more used to dealing with privateers than actual Navy men. He was only going to end up doing something incredibly _stupid_ , as Sparrow would stress the word.

Norrington groaned in frustration. Perhaps Beckett's obsession with Sparrow was contagious. He found himself thinking about the dead pirate far too often these days. It made him frown in both displeasure and confusion. He usually couldn't get the man off of his mind like this only days before he met with the man again, or was to chase him upon spotting his black ship. Some of his men joked openly about him having a special, sixth sense only for Sparrow, but he knew what others said behind his back. None of it was pleasant. None of it had boded well for him. But it had always been surprisingly accurate. He'd start thinking of the silly pirate mere days before the Black Pearl would be sighted or someone ran into on of her crewman on shore leave and then the chase would begin. The only instance he wasn't sure about was Tortuga, as he'd been too drunk to remember his ponderings. Every other time, it was spot on.

But that only confused him more, as he _knew_ Sparrow to be dead. He'd seen the man and his ship be dragged beneath the waves, into the depths, by the Kraken with his own two eyes. There was no way they could meet again and yet his mind persisted in thinking about the man. James just sighed and contemplated the mess his life had become in the past couple of years. He'd always known he wanted to make his father proud, that he wanted to protect and fight for the innocent and those not strong enough to fight for themselves. He'd always been proud of his accomplishments in the Navy, wore his uniforms with honor. He'd hunted pirates to pursue justice and he had never hesitated to bring in the criminals.

But then he'd met Sparrow and saw maybe not all pirates were bad - he chose to ignore his earlier, younger self's such acknowledgments regarding one Captain Teague and his son, Jack Teague, James' own Curatrix for the moment - and then he'd seen it from the other side himself. He'd seen what drove some people to piracy and he could no longer look at it all the same way. He had felt as though his world had been turned upside down when he saw the struggles, when he'd experienced them himself on his own skin. It had not been pleasant in the least and he had been lucky to get a job, unlike so many other poor sods who were left stuck in Tortuga. That was actually the only place James still did not go to. No matter how many pirates fled there and no matter how many more ships he had and most certainly no matter to the fact that he had an indestructible ship under his command, Norrington did not go to attack the one place that had offered him a place in the world when he was miserable and at the bottom.

It was funny, how he had once looked at Tortuga,at the world in general, and how he looked at it now. They never told you during the military drills that you'll one day realize just how much alike your enemies were to you, that they were as _human_ as you. But, then again, not everyone was expected to meet Jack Sparrow, either. They really _should_ try to make a protocol for that man. Or a warning. It might never be accurate enough and be completely useless for every other man, pirate or Curatrix, but you never know.

"Sail, ho!" Came a shout from the crow's nest and James head snapped up, hand already reaching for his looking glass. "East-South East!" The cursed crewman yelled and pointed in said direction. True enough, there was a ship of a strange and alien design in comparison to anything James had ever seen before, with red sails.

"Colors?" Jones demanded impatiently, searching for his own looking glass.

"South China Sea, Captain! Singapore!"

"Sao Feng?" The cursed Captain asked incredulously. "What's he doin' here? He hasn't ventured out of his bath house for the past five years, if not longer."

"He's signaling for parlay, sir." Maccus told his Captain, handing him the looking glass.

"He's heading for the Endeavor." Norrington realized, turning to order signal a be sent as a warning to said ship, only to stop when he realized Mercer was up in his personal space. "We need to warn them. To attack."

"Lord Beckett has been expecting something along these lines." The assassin said casually. "He is well prepared. However, we are to move closer and stay side by side. Turn the Dutchman around, Admiral, and follow your orders. Let your superiors do the thinking."

Being left no choice, James did as told, bitter on the inside as he went through the mechanic motions. The Flying Dutchman got there long before the Empress and James got the chance to see how such a strange ship worked as they slowed down in front of the Endeavor. Beckett was looking smugly expectant as what must have been the captain of the foreign ship boarded with five other men, no doubt his bodyguards. "Are you Cutler Beckett?" The bald Chinese man asked in a gruff voice, eyes fearfully flitting to Jones and his crew.

"Indeed I am. And I am to take you wished to discuss something with me?" Said Lord arched an eyebrow, clearly pleased and amused by the other man's reaction.

"I am Sao Feng and I have a proposition for you." Sao Feng said, getting straight down to business, which earned him a garner of Beckett's respect. The man was all about power, money and business. Appeal to one of his interests, and you had his attention. "One I doubt, with your reputation, that you will turn down."

"I am listening."

But the pirate shook his head and came to stand closer to the lord, ignoring the muskets and guns trained on him immediately. Sao Feng just leaned in until he was whispering in the shorter man's ear, but James was just close enough to hear what he was saying. "If you let me and my ship go, I will tell you a secret about Jack Sparrow." At that name alone, Feng had Beckett's attention aimed only at himself and to his words. "And if you promise me the Black Pearl-"

"What is this secret?" Cutler demanded, cutting in before the man could finish. Sao Feng looked irritated at being interrupted but replied anyway.

"Do I have your word?"

"Yes, yes. You go untouched. Now tell me."

Sao Feng leered in pleasure. "Mr Turner, Miss Swan and a small group of other unsavory characters have ventured on a journey to Davy Jones' Locker." He sent an uneasy glance towards said man before turning back to the matter at hand. The way Beckett was looking at him sent shivers down _James_ ' spine. But Feng was not concerned. "To retrieve Jack Sparrow." Norrington had to look away in order to hide his widening eyes. "He will soon return, if they know how to read the map his friends stole from me. The map to the Farthest Gate. And knowing that insufferable man's luck, they will be back to the world of the living soon enough. I have a deal with Turner to get the Pearl to a location only we know and the Pearl will be within my grasp. But I know you are also interested in the Pearl _and_ her Captain even more so. If you give me the Pearl, I will deliver Jack Sparrow to you, in whatever state you like, to do with as you wish. Do we have a deal?"

James knew the answer even before the obsessed man shook Sao Feng's hand.


	25. Chapter 25

No wind.

No currents.

No movement.

Whatever had been keeping the Black Pearl going away from the Locker was well and truly gone, the stillness of the water of this limbo world getting on everyone's nerves. The lack of food, water and even rum was starting to get to the crew, especially with the strange heat that seemed to be coming from _everywhere_. There was not a cloud in the sky and not a shade long or big enough to hide in. Tai Huang's men were bellow deck, taking their turn in the only shade on the entire ship that they could find before they were later called for the switch. They were sleeping like the dead, totally uncaring about the people up on the deck and just enjoying the coolness of the shade while they still could.

Elizabeth and her father were sitting as close to the wall of the forecastle as they could, trying to keep as much in its short shadow as they could. The old Governor still couldn't believe he was alive - rare few could, from those who had seen him in one of the boats meant for the other side - and although he wanted to feel the warmth, it was _too_ warm, even for a previously dead man. Gibbs and Pintel were leaning against the main mast, trying to shake out one last drop of rum or water out of their flasks, futile as it might be. Ragetti was chasing Jack the undead monkey around, as the primate had stolen his wooden eye again. That was the most activity going on on the entire ship, Marty having hid himself in a barrel with its lid on his head and Mr Cotton sitting against the wall of the great cabin in order to shield himself and his parrot from a heat wave. Will stood by Tia Dalma on the quarterdeck, both looking out at the ship and its crew, the two Pirate Lords on the opposite side, Barbossa grumbling to himself while Jack idly poured over the Mao Kun charts. He was the least affected, having gotten used to the warm weather during his year long stint in a freaking desert.

"If we can not cross dese doldrums b'fore night, I fear we will sail on trackless seas, under starless skies, doomed ta roam de reach b'tween worlds," Tia Dalma stated ominously, sending a shiver down Will's spine despite the heat. "Forever."

"With no water," Gibbs said as he climbed up to join them. "Forever looks t' be arrivin' a mite too soon."

"Why doesn't he do something?" Turner asked, looking at the brooding Barbossa. Unknown to him, Barbossa _was_ trying to do something but he wasn't a miracle worker. The only clue they had was the damned map and it was vague and completely gibberish spewing!

" _Over the edge, over again_. It's driving me over to blooming edge!" Hector continued grumbling to himself, completely lost. He cast a glance at the younger Pirate Lord, playing with the circles of the Mao Kun map, and looked away with a snort. If Sparrow was having trouble with the thing, then at least he wasn't dumb not to understand. " _Sunrise sets. Flash of green._ There's no sense to it. Sunrise doesn't set! And the flash of green happens at sunset, not sunrise!" Barbossa was ready to pull his own hair and beard out in frustration. He had just - relatively - recently come back to life! He didn't want to spend eternity floating in what might as well be nowhere!

On Jack's end, he was too busy mesmerized by the map, his eyes rowing the paths and routes and courses it showed him with every spin of the circles. Here is where a memory like his is most appreciated. He very easily memorized things and charts and maps were his favorite things to remember and usually prove to be the most useful. For all the Mao Kun map's complexity, it was rather simple to read, especially if you knew several languages like Jack did. It was fun. There were so many places he could visit. So many ways to go with a single chart. It might not be the most precise, but Jack recognized each region it showed him and his mind easily corrected the mistakes mentally. Oh, he couldn't _wait_ to explore all the secrets and treasures afforded to him by the map. This was going to satisfy his adventurous part for the next couple of decades, for sure!

When turning one circle, something caught his attention. It was a simple phrase in simple English, consisting of only three words. " _Up is down._ Well, that's rather maddeningly unhelpful. Why can't these things ever be clear?" He wondered to himself, swatting away his new pet crab - it would seem he had unfortunately completely charmed the little thing and it refused to leave. That's why a Curatrix's charm is feared. It could be so strong that, when unleashed to its full potential, it could make a mortal being fall in love with them or become unflinchingly loyal. At times, it had been reported to have the negative outcome in causing obsession. Jack knew all too well how true _that_ could be - when it started tugging at his beard braids. _'I would really rather not spend eternity out here when I'd just been offered a way to go back.'_

He pouts, playing still with the circles until he notices that the circle in the middle, the one with the drawing of an old eastern style ship, can spin as well. He cautiously places the outer circles for them to align into _Up is down_ again before doing just that with the ship. He spins the circle and watches as the ship comes to rest upside down, the ocean seemingly over it now. But then he notices how this new position seems to be creating lines that represented sunlight at sunset and it suddenly dawns on him, striking him as suddenly and surely as a lightning bolt.

"Not sun-set. Sun- _down_." He whispers, elated. "And rise ... _Up_!" He jumps to his feet with his usual energy, startling all up on deck with the sudden movement, all of them having gotten used to nothing but _stillness_ , even when they themselves made motions. "Over there!" Jack shouts, pointing at something at the one side of the ship. He run over, knowing the curiosity and weariness would get the better of at least half his crew and they would follow him. "What's that?" He asked, as though speaking to himself or to his ship, but he didn't seem to be waiting an invisible person to answer. "I don't know. What do you think?" He squinted into the distance, as though that would help him see better the imaginary thing.

"Where?" He thought Gibbs asked, but he made a garbled sound in his throat and rushed over to the other side of the ship, again searching the horizon, the rest following after him again. The Black Pearl, as confused as the rest, doesn't resist the tilting she is subjected to due to the shifting.

"There!" He said, as thought that answered it perfectly. "It moved! Suddenly. It's very fast." He turns around just as suddenly and races back to the port side again, pointing out towards the water. "There! Over there!" Again, everyone followed, growing increasingly more confused when he made a garbled sound again and ran back to the starboard side again. None the less, they followed, not knowing what else to do. The Back Pearl groaned softly as she continued tilting this way and that before she became aware of it and was about to resist, but Jack sending a reassuring 'trust me' wave to her stopped her from doing so. Instead, she let herself be rocked from port to starboard, again and again and wondered just what her silly, eccentric Captain was up to now.

Even Elizabeth and Weatherby had gotten out of the shade and had joined in on the running. "What is it?" She asked the Curatrix, who let out what might have passed as a frustrated sound as he ran back to starboard again.

"It's not here," he said before running back again, everyone still following in confusion, seemingly not even noticing the rocking of the ship. He runs across again just as even Tia Dalma, skirts in hands, reaches the railing, as baffled as everyone else for once. They follow after him again and Barbossa finally approaches the map - completely unintentionally, mind you. He had only wanted to snatch up the wooden eye and plant it back into Ragetti's eye socket, but then he paused and saw it. The middle circle of the map was turned upside down while the texts around it said _Up is down_. He quickly does what he's intended before looking back to the charts, studying them in brief confusion.

"We're rocking the ship!" Gibbs exclaims, the first to notice and yet he does not stop following his Captain's lead even as the Pearl starts tilting a little more dangerously.

"He's rocking the ship!" Pintel agrees, sounding like it's the best thing he's ever heard in his life. Seeing how far the tilting was going and the upside down ship made Barbossa finally figure it out and he let out an incredulous laugh. That crazy bugger! He got it!

"Aye, he's on to it!" He called out to the running group, a grin on his face. Trust Sparrow to understand that which is gibberish to everyone else. "All hands together! Time it with the swell!" He called out, climbing down the stairs from the forecastle deck and towards the ones leading bellow deck. He enters the hold and starts hollering orders at the sleeping men, startling them out of their naps with great glee and satisfaction. "Loose the cannons, ya lazy bilge rats! Unstow the cargo!" He said even as he cut one rope with an ax himself. "Let it shift!" He waits only long enough to see them scrambling to do as he's told them and he can't help but laugh. This will be by far the craziest thing he's ever done and he had known Jack Sparrow for quite a few years. And its saying quite a bit that he was not at all surprised or hesitant in following the Curatrix lead.

When he got back on deck, he joined the running men and women just as she turned with the swell, her tilts becoming more and more precarious. The Pearl itself seemed to be helping with the tilting, dancing a dangerous dance with the waves, letting herself move the way she usually avoided. Jack was leading the running from port to starboard to port again and again and again, each time the ship was tilting further and further. They didn't have much time. The sun was already setting. He sped up, putting on a burst of speed that had the others following as best as their desperation allowed. One more tilt and the Pearl was almost horizontal. As she tilted on the other side, it was finally the tipping point and she started _turning_ , sails first, towards water.

"Now _up_ ," Jack said, a little strained, hanging from the opposite side's railing as he and his crew all dangled over the sea in the limbo world between life and death. "Is _down_." Those were the last words spoken and heard before they all took a deep breath as they were all submerged under the water as it rushed up to meet them. The water was clear and by some miracle, although salty if one were to drink any, it did not sting their eyes. They could sea each other almost perfectly clear, all of them exchanging uncertain, worried glances. They cannot hold their breath forever. They watched as cannons, barrels and some smaller objects started floating away, sinking in the right direction, at least, some of the rigging lines aimlessly drifting through the water. It was quiet. Perhapts that in itself was the most unnerving thing of all.

Then, the light of the sun as it finally set faded and a flash of green shocked them, even in the water, with its brightness. Governor Swann, not used to any such strenuous activity, slipped his hold and started sinking, but Elizabeth and William held on tight, holding on with all of their might just as water seemed to start rushing up, towards them, as though the Black Pearl was emerging from the depths. All the water falls and slides off of the ship, floating away as the first rays of sunlight touch the horizon while the ship's passengers are gasping for air, not believing they were alive. They had thought that the last thing they would ever see was the depthless blue of the ocean that turned to black the farther from the surface you went. They were lucky none of the crates or cannons or barrels had fallen on anyone when they had landed back on the deck.

Jack the monkey and Mr Cotton's parrot were giving off complaining sounds at their wet fur and feathers respectively while the sailors all just gave off relieved, incredulous laughter. Jack himself chuckled, placing the clinging white crab back onto his shoulder and not shooing it away when it took a firm hold of one of his dreadlocks. It must have been as relieved to have survived as the rest of them. Swann and the pirates from Singapore could only gawk.

The rising sun had never seemed so beautiful.

"Blessed sweet Westerlies! We're back!" Gibbs exclaims with laugher, getting cheers in return to his statement. The impossible had once again become possible, all thanks to Captain Jack Sparrow. The one place in this existence and every next that was said to be inescapable and Sparrow got them out!

Pintel was grumbling at Ragetti for his stupid plan to tie themselves to the mast upside down, as they were now trapped like that and might need some help getting out.

"It's the sunrise," Elizabeth says and everyone takes a victorious moment to just enjoy getting out of that mess alive. Then, almost as one, Barbossa draws his pistols, pointing one at Jack and one at Will, who had taken out his own just a second later, also pointing one at Jack, the other at Barbossa. Elizabeth reacts as quickly as Jack, pointing her pistols at Barbossa and Jack, while Jack points one at Will and one at Elizabeth, shocking her with the action. Forgiven her he might have, but she and Will had still brought Beckett back on his trail. Barbossa's marooning, compared to that midget lord and everything he's put Jack through, was like child's play. Besides, he knew how to deal with his traitorous first mate. He was at least an enemy.

Elizabeth and the whelp were supposed to be his _friends_ and allies, and yet they spoiled more of his plans than any and all of his enemies combined. With friends like _that_ , who _needs_ enemies?

Behind Barbossa, Gibbs draws his own pistol, pointing it at Barbossa in protection of his Captain and Barbossa points the one that had been aimed at Jack to the old sailor, by his hip.

They all have a few moments long Mexican staredown before they all laugh, lowering their pistols as though they were all just messing around, but Jack feels the tension in the air and reacts faster than anyone else, aiming his guns first, seconds before the others follow. Something at the back of his head was nagging at him that he had forgotten a very important thing but he was too focused on the guns pointed at him to notice.

"Alright, then," Barbossa is the first to break the silence. "The Brethren Court is a-gatherin' at Shipwreck Cove. Jack, ye and I be headin' there, there'll be no arguin' the point." He said firmly, blue eyes daring Jack to defy. And defiant the black eyes were as he replied.

"I is arguin' the point." The Caribbean Pirate Lord replied, eyes dangerous. Beneath him, the Black Pearl shuddered a warning. "If there's pirates a-gatherin', then I am a-pointing my ship the other a-way."

"The pirates are gathering to fight Beckett." Elizabeth hissed dangerously at Jack, glaring and forgetting all that he had done for her and her father. Said father was being held back by Mr Cotton as he fretted over the proceedings. "And you're a pirate." She pointed both of her guns at him and Jack just arched a brow. His wings were out and spread wide before you could blink. His flight feathers gleamed strangely like black steel in the sunlight, not ruffled by the slight breeze. With his wings' reach, the suddenly sharp and hard feathers that could be used like blades could be used as effectively as a long distance weapon as the guns could.

"Fight or not, you're not running." Will promises ominously and Jack's eyes snap to him, something tugging at his mind, something coming from Will's own mind. His intentions. They left him uneasy and on edge. His wings flexed themselves, more of the feathers turning harder and harder, becoming steel, like a shield. Not every guardian could do this. Jack had discovered it by accident after the marooning, so not even Barbossa knew about this ability of his. It was a neat trick. A Curatrix must always be appropriately armed to protect their charge.

"If we don't stand together, they'll hunt us all, one by one." Barbossa said, trying to bring some reason to this mess. "'Till there's no one left but you. As a Pirate Lord and the _Heir_ ," Jack flinched at the stretched word, Barbossa getting his point across to him with just that. Jack had an obligation to attend, greater than anyone else's but the Keeper's. And Jack did not want to bring down the rage of the Keeper upon himself.

"I get it, I get it. I'll go. Bugger."

Elizabeth seemed pleased at this while William appeared _very_ displeased with the idea. "We're not going into a pirate infested cave, you can be sure of that." His fiancée went to protest but it was already too late. Will fired both his pistols-

Only to hear a wet little click and a little water to squirt out of the barrel of the gun. Barbossa flinched incredulously as it him him in the face and he fired both his guns back at Will. Only more water. Even the guns Elizabeth and Jack fired at each other were shooting nothing but water and Jack chuckled at the exasperated look on Gibbs face when even his own shot nothing but sea water.

"Wet powder." That was all that needed to be said and the pirates all looked sheepish to have forgotten they'd been completely submerged not moments ago. Jack didn't furl in his wings, though. The message was clear to all who cared to look his way. He was still armed. What he says, goes, the easy way or the hard way.

"We've other issues to deal with." Will said snappily. "We can shoot each other later."

"Right you are, whelp." Jack replied, bringing his wings closer to his body. "And you can contemplate all meanings of the word 'mutiny' and 'keelhauling' while Barbossa and I lead a party to land - there should be an island around here somewhere - to restock on food and water." At Barbossa's strange look and Will's startled one, he rolled his eyes. "I'm a Curatrix. I can tell you're up to something and I don't like it, which is why bonny Elizabeth is staying _here_ to watch out for you. You wouldn't do anything to put _her_ in danger, right William?"

As if by some agreement or as if that was a signal, one of Tai Huang's men, face and eyes completely blank, surged for Elizabeth, easily caught her around the shoulders and pressed a knife to her troath in a single, fluid motion. She gave a startled yelp while Will, panicked, cried out her name. He turned to look at Jack in unease, finding him examining a ring on his finger. God with a big ruby that was now gleaming ominously with power. Black eyes met brown, an eyebrow arched.

"Me charms are not the only thing that can subdue a person to my will, Will. You better watch what you're doing or your charming murderess gets it. As for _you_ ," he turned to Barbossa, easily turning his back to Will - let him try, if he dares; Jack's wings are now as hard and unrelenting as steel - to point at the older Pirate Lord. "No funny business, aye. Both of us are fighting towards a similar end, if for different reasons. I've shot you once. Don't think I won't do it again."

Barbossa raised his hands as if in surrender or good will. "An uneasy alliance?"

"An unholy one." Jack replied with a smile.


	26. Chapter 26

It was eery and very strange to look the cause of your death and past fear in the eye and find it blank, reflecting and _dead_. For all the trouble it had caused him and all that he had hated the thing in the moment it had started dragging his Pearl down to the depths, Jack had never wanted to kill the Kraken. It was practically a fundamental part of the sea, despite the nasty role it had taken up of being Jones' pet in the last few decades of its centuries old existence. Jack had always strove to get the creature to stop chasing him, to leave him alone. He would have never asked Jones to kill it.

Now, because of Cutler Beckett, the world was all the emptier for the knowledge that the beastie of the depths was gone.

"Still planin' on runnin' away, Jack?" Barbossa speaks from his side, the two of them once again standing together like they had, once, long ago. Allies. Almost friends again. A guardian with a protectee, a human he had become fond of and had extended a bit of his protection to. They stood almost reverently before the once great beast. Only a _real_ lover of the sea could understand what has been lost to Beckett's power hungry campaign. Out of all that sailed with them, they were currently the only ones who fit such a description. "Think you can outrun the world?"

"I might, at that," he tried to tease halfheartedly, but there was no heart behind his words, no real humor. Barbossa knew it and ignored it. It was just Jack running away from something else. He had ran away from home and his one true way of life. He had ran away from responsibility. He had ran away from 'normal' society. He had ran away from his own Tutela. He was trying to run away from what was facing him now but Barbossa could not let him. Like a certain Commodore, he had been imparted with a little tidbit of wisdom, of the wish and will of the gods that had created them all and he _knew_ Sparrow had a rough road ahead of him. But he had to take it. There was no avoiding that.

"The problem of being last of anythin'," Hector said, no sharpness to his words, almost comforting in tone. "By and by, there be none left at all."

Jack smiled a bit bitterly at him then. "Sometimes things come back, mate. We're living proof, you and I." He said pointing between them with a finger.

"Aye, but that's a gamble with long odds, ain't it?" The older pirate responded. "There's no guarantee of comin' back." Just like there had been no guarantee that they could have escaped the Locker. Just like there had been no guarantee that they would find Jack Sparrow sane. "But passing on," he put a heavy hand on his once Captain's shoulder. "That's dead certain." He let Jack contemplate his words as he regards the beast, doing his best to ignore the two idiots that had served under them both. He felt like shooting them for the disrespect they were showing a legend that had supported and made a man's reverence, fear and respect of the sea. "The world used to be a bigger place." He had said it more to himself than his companion, and so he had not expected an answer.

He got one anyway. An answer so simple and yet so deep that it surprised him a little. "The world's still the same." Jack Sparrow, Captain of the Black Pearl and the Curatrix with the biggest ever seen wing span, said solemnly. "There's just ... less in it." He sighed and reluctantly faced his fellow Pirate Lord. "The Brethren Court, huh?"

"Our only hope." Hector said with a nod to enforce his words and Jack gave that bitter smile again.

"That's a sad commentary, in and of itself." He ran a hand over his face. "Lay off the Heir thing, will you?"

"People still not knowing your heritage?" The Caspian Pirate Lord teased, chuckling at the petulant stare the other gave him. "The only time I bless that cursed Aztec gold is when I think on what yer father would 'ave done to me had he had the chance."

"I'm serious here, Hector."

Barbossa sighed and nodded. "Aye, I'll keep it secret. Safer fer us all if they don't know just _who_ they had within reach."

"My point exactly," Sparrow said with a grimace. "Though I doubt the secrecy will continue after I see my Da again. I _did_ essentially die."

"Pray the gods help us all."

They shuddered, despite the Caribbean heat.

00000

Jack really should have expected that the mutiny won't involve just the dozen or so men Tai Huang had with him and one silly, naive Will Turner. He should have expected Sao Feng to be somehow involved.

But for a Pirate Lord to give out not one but _two_ of his fellows to the Navy to save his own skin ... Now that was just shameful. His ancestors must be so disappointed.

Jack cradled his broken nose gently as he watched the Endeavor coming closer, his senses on high alert after the mutiny. He and Barbossa had been easily surrounded by the pirates from Singapore that they had taken with them ashore and Will had indeed led a mutiny against them as soon as the Empress had come into sight while they were on the said island. Elizabeth, Gibbs and Tia Dalma could not hold their own against so many enemies and had as such been subdued and surrounded while Jack, Barbossa and the rest of the Pearl's crew were herded back to the seething ship. Sao Feng was waiting for them there, so it was no surprise his lady love was so pissed. The man had a great big smile on his face, smug about 'catching' the neigh uncatchable Black Pearl, bringing both her captains and the ship herself _very_ close to being tempted to clobber him, consequences be damned.

Barbossa had been a surprise. He had stood as a shield between his fellow Pirate Lords, at first hiding Jack and then pushing Sao Feng away boldly when he had nearly punched Jack's lights out. Had he not had the ability to occasionally anticipate someone's actions, Jack would have had more than just a broken nose. Singapore pirates were not very well known to be gentle when waking up their captives.

William Turner Junior had betrayed them all, having come on the trip in the first place only because he wanted the Pearl all for his onesies, so he can free his twice cursed father from Davy Jones. Bill would have been disappointed. Tia Dalma sure as hell was. Jack was. Gibbs was. Weatherby Swann was. Marty and Cotton were, as were Ragetti and Pintel. Hell, even _Barbossa_ was and he didn't even _like_ Will! But the worst off was Elizabeth. She was betrayed on a far more personal level. Her life had been threatened and Will had gone and done whatever it was that he wanted, completely disregarding her safety. Sure, the man Jack had controlled with his (once his Da's) ring was killed, but the crew of the Empress could just as well try something unsavory, no matter the deal Will had made with Sao Feng.

Turner showed his naivety when he actually believed he would be getting the fastest ship on the seas. Barbossa and Jack had not spent a decade fighting each other for the black sailed ship just for shits and kicks and giggles and wounded pride. The only ship in existence faster than the Flying Dutchman? Only a madman would give that up and only someone incredibly _stupid_ would believe they would get it as practically a gift. Will was not the best at negotiation. He mucked it up when he was even making the deal.

And now, because of another betrayal, Jack found himself facing the one person in the entire world he'd rather never face again. Hell, give him the Kraken over this any day. The Shadow Lord. The ghost of Cortéz. The _Silent Mary_ , for heaven's sake! He'd rather face the Butcher of the Sea for the second time than have to stand in front of Cutler Beckett again.

His only consolation in this sticky mess was that he could not feel James anywhere near by. As long as his charge was away from the midget.

He glances at Sao Feng over his shoulder, his arms gripped tightly by two of the other Pirate Lord's men. Barbossa had been shackled away with the rest of the crew. Only Jack, Elizabeth and Will were left 'free'. But Jack might as well have had his wings clipped. He can't unfurl them fast enough to push the men holding him away without being shot or one of his protectees being shot. He can only hope he can talk his way out of this. Charm won't work on a scared, rotten, greedy, desperate coward like Sao Feng was. "You don't want to be doing this mate. You won't like the repercussions. You know who I am. You know _who_ will come after you for your actions. Do you really want to risk it? His men will find you faster than Davy Jones."

"That I doubt, as all the pirates are now cowering in the Cove, saving their own skins. As for me, I will have nothing to fear from Jones at all. I only need to hand you over now and I am as free as a bird."

"A bird in a golden cage is a pampered bird, but not a free one." Jack warned. "He won't even be interested in you once he has me, mate. Whatever deals you've made with his Lord Midgetness, it will all be forgotten. He'll have what he wanted and you'll be left with zilch. Nada. Zero. Nothing."

"Not all men break their promises as easily as you, Sparrow."

Jack just shrugged as best as he could from where he was being held. "Your funeral." And while Barbossa might have listened, for he knew Jack Sparrow well enough to recognize an offer of help and information when he sees one, Sao Feng was too bitter about Sparrow to care, even if he were to recognize the hints. Barbossa worried for what might come. He had only seen the aftereffects of Beckett on Sparrow, sometime after their last meeting. Sparrow had been searching for a crew and Barbossa, once again shipless, had thrown in his lot with the Pirate Lord who had helped make _him_ a Pirate Lord. Sparrow had made Sao Feng a Pirate Lord, too, and yet this was how the man was repaying him.

"No, I'm pretty sure it will be yours." The Pirate Lord of the South China Sea said with glee and they waited in silence until the Endeavor came to moor in beside them. With the Empress on starboard side and the Endeavor at port, the Black Pearl will be hard pressed to win. It did not help that Jack and Tia Dalma both could sense the cursed ship that was the Flying Dutchman only a few leagues away, just out of sight.

Sparrow clenched his fists and grit his teeth when a gangplank was put in between the English ship and his Pearl, whose sails were rustling angrily overhead, and did not look anywhere else but at Lord Cutler Beckett as the man boarded the Black Pearl without asking for anyone's permission. He was dressed as implacably as ever. Just like Jack remembered him. All stiff and stuffy and proper, with his immaculate coat and three piece suit and clean white shirt, powdered wig and a clean shave. He probably bathed often enough that the water used for his baths could have been used on a ship for a year or five months in a village. That had always disgusted Jack, the way the man enjoyed his wealth and the efforts and labor of the slaves that served him, completely uncaring to the fact of just how hard their lives were. He had never said as much. He had been just one of many privateers in the Company and he had not wanted to lose his job.

Back then, when a foolish mistake in trusting a friend had cost him his life in Shipwreck Cove, turning to privateering had been the only course of action he could take. The only way he would have any sort of protection out at sea, what with no longer being protected by the Code - or so he had though, but that's a story for another time, his relationship with his Da - was to work for the East India Trading Company. Being a privateer had grated on his pride as a Pirate Lord, but he had forced himself to move on beyond that and he did his job diligently. He was rewarded by being reunited with his beloved ship, the back then Wicked Wench, after he had basically singlehandedly saved a ship from a pirate attack. Beckett, impressed as he had been, had wanted to give him a brand new ship, bigger and with more guns, but he wanted the Wench. Beckett had agreed - he didn't much care about the old ship he had gotten from some random pirates, an even _longer_ story, and he had wanted to keep Jack in his service - but he was disappointed that Jack refused to transport slaves. He would haul any cargo, even gun powder, but never slaves.

Beckett respected his terms and welcomed Jack with open arms. He worked for the man for some five years or so, since he was twenty two. They had even struck up some sort of friendship. Jack had even considered making Cutler one of his protectees, but his instincts always made him hesitate. There was a strange look in the Lord's eyes whenever they rested on Jack. He knew just what Sparrow was - Jack had shown him his wings on several occasions and Cutler had been _fascinated_ by the pretty appendages that sported from his back. He had often asked Jack to unfurl them while he was giving a report on his voyages and Jack had from time to time humored him. He had thought the fascination would pass with time, especially with how often Jack was away, out at sea. But it never did.

Sparrow began worrying about his friend the day he found him hatefully glaring at his bonny ship when Jack was leaving for an overseas voyage.

Then the whole thing with Ayisha, rather Princess Amenirdis of Zerzura on the mythical island of Karma, happened and Beckett showed his true colors at last. He was a tyrant obsessed with power and with Jack himself. He bound Jack, branded him a pirate before dragging him to the docks and making him watch as they burned his ship down. Only they didn't expect Jack to free himself and swim to his Wench - his wings had been as bound as his arms and legs, but he hadn't had the time to free them - ready to die on her if it meant trying to save her. But he was too late, not enough and they were both about to sink when Jack, desperate, called upon Davy Jones. He sold his soul for her and Jones restored her to a sea-worthy state. But her once dark brown hull, her snow white sails and her gold lining was all charred black forever and, when Jack finally freed his wings, some time later, he had found them as black as his ship and he had wept for the first time in his life.

Beckett had been his only ticket out of piracy and maybe being able to stand side by side with his Tutela. He had wanted to make a bit of a name for himself before searching out his Jamie, to impress him. He had been so close to finally keeping their promise, but Beckett had ruined all of that out of pettiness and hurt pride. With calling himself Sparrow instead of his family name and with his wings completely place as opposed to their beautiful pattern that had fascinated James so, Jack was nothing like the Curatrix James Norrington had met when they were twelve and six respectively.

And now he comes again, when Jack was struggling to put his just returned life back together into some semblance of his version of normalcy. He just saunters in, whenever he likes, and does as he pleases. Jack was sick of it. He had thought he had shaken the man off of his back with him 'witnessing' his 'death' fifteen years ago. He had _hoped_ he will _never_ cross paths with him again.

Life was cruel in not sparing him that, at least.

Beckett's eyes zeroed in on the restrained dreadlocked pirate and a strange beam spread across his face, sending a shiver down Jack's, Barbossa's and Elizabeth's spines when they saw it. He marched right past the expectant Sao Feng, leaving him sputtering, and cane to stand not three feet away from the held back Curatrix.

"Jack," he said in an almost friendly sounding voice and said pirate clenched his teeth harder. "It's been far too long."

"Not nearly long enough, actually." Sparrow replied with a sardonic, sarcastic grin that spoke of no humor whatsoever. "Hello, Beckett. Miss me?"


	27. Chapter 27

"Yes, indeed. More than you might think." Cutler replied, waving off the sarcasm and disdain with a hand as though its just an annoying fly to swat at. "The years have been incredibly dull since the last time I saw you." He looked around the black deck, taking in the black sails and the black masts, the black _everything_ and humming. "Remarkable." He commented. "The last time I saw of this ship, she was on fire, a blackened hulk sinking beneath the waves with her Captain."

"Thank you for that memory," Jack snapped, well aware of the startled looks everyone was exchanging amongst themselves. They had obviously not thought that he and Beckett were actually _that_ involved, let alone that Beckett could be the reason Jack was in this sorry mess with Jones to begin with. At least Elizabeth seemed to understand why he had reacted so badly at the Letters and why he had advised her not to take them herself.

"We had a deal." Beckett replied immediately, a little more sharply. "I contracted you to deliver cargo on my behalf. You chose to liberate it."

The confusion spreading over the watching group cleared with Jack's growled answer. "People aren't cargo, mate."

"And you incurred a heavy debt to raise her back, didn't you Jack?" He stepped closer, reaching with a hand as though to touch him when Jack growled like a caged, savage beast, a threat that he _would_ bite him, no matter how undignified. He stopped short and withdrew his hand. For now. "Was it worth it?"

"You wouldn't understand even if I spelled it out to you. You only care about money and power."

"That's where you're wrong, Jack." The short man seemed to be delighting simply in speaking the Curatrix's name while said Curatrix felt dirtier with every repetition. "I care about _you_ as well and you are neither of those. You are _you_." He looked over Jack's shoulder, at the space his wings would take up if unfurled. "Although your wings might suggest otherwise." He smiled benignly at the Caribbean Pirate Lord. "Would you indulge me, for old times' sake, by showing me your wings?"

"How about no. How 'bout _fuck_ no."

Beckett frowned, looking most disappointed and almost petulant. "Come now, Jack. No need to be like that. You know I'd never try to harm them."

"The answer's still no." Sparrow replied unflinchingly, not about to give Beckett what he wants. He could be branded a thousand times over and yet he wouldn't unfurl his wings. He could be sent right back into Davy Jones' Locker he wouldn't do it. He knew how to escape from the Locker. It didn't matter that it'd probably take him another year or two to drag the Pearl back to the haunted, still waters of the limbo world between life and death. He can overturn his Pearl by himself, maybe even far more easily than just rocking her in order to get the same result, as he had done with the crew just hours earlier. If he can haul her on dry land, he can tilt her by himself on water far more easily. He has no fear of the Locker. Not anymore. Not with the Pearl on his side. As they were connected by astral and celestial powers no mortal or semi-mortal can understand or break - not even _gods_ can do it - as Curatrix and their item, the Pearl went where he went, if he or she so desired and she _will_ want to be there for her Captain, to keep him sane and safe and to find and secure him a way back to the world of the living.

Neither of them wants to be in Beckett's presence longer than absolutely necessary.

"I was afraid you'd be difficult," the Lord said with a sigh and a regretful shake of his head. He motioned to some of his men and they trained their guns at his crew. "Please do behave, Jack. I'm sure you don't want any blood spilled on your deck." He took out his own gentleman's pistol out of his jacket and pointed it himself at Will, who only glared at him, but his eyes gave away just how worried and scared he was. "Especially not that of your Tutela."

Sparrow snorted at that, uninterested. "My Tutela is not here. But do go ahead and kill the whelp. You'd actually be doing me a favor." There was an outraged cry from the blacksmith that did not bother Jack at all. "I don't like traitors."

"But betrayal isn't a foreign concept to either of us, is it Jack?" Beckett asked with a small tilt to his lips. "Surely this bit of foolishness is not enough to break the bond."

"Will Turner is _not_ my Tutela, mate." Jack stated firmly.

"Then it is the lovely Miss Swann." The shorter man said with a nod and changed his target, only to stop short when he caught movement behind her and, on closer inspection, recognized none other than the should be dead Governor Swann. He paled as if he'd seen a ghost, eyes going wide and hand shaking a little before he started laughing. It was more of a cackle of a madman and it was unnerving as all hell. Sao Feng looked at him as though he were mad and started doubting. "This is remarkable. Unseen and unheard of. A _miracle_! I always knew you were powerful, Jack, but I never thought you to be _this_ powerful. Resurrection of the dead? There's more divinity in you than you'd like people to know." He shook his head again before pointing his gun back at Elizabeth. "I don't know what you did or how. All I care about is seeing your wings again. If you don't let me, I will gladly see to it that your charge gets a hole in her head."

Jack just snorted again. "Shoot her if ye bloody want, since I sure as hell won't stop you. My Tutela is _not here_. You don't have who to threaten me with. And killing me crew will certainly not make me any more partial to you so you'd only be digging in your own grave, so to speak." He smiled mockingly at the Lord. "And if you want to kill me, go right ahead. I'll just come back again some other time, when you're dead, since you don't have a Curatrix and can't reincarnate. But be careful. Ye won't be getting the Pearl if I die. It's my soul she's bound to."

There's a spark in Beckett's eye at that and he chuckles all sinister like. He lowers his gun and turns to face Mercer. "Tell the men to go down in their hold and set fire to their barrel supplies. It would seem Mr Sparrow has not learned from the Wicked Wench incident."

Said man went pale before rage flashed in his eyes. But with one gun already pointed at a powder barrel on the main deck, he was already taking a big risk if he were to try and do anything. Everyone was watching him and they'd no doubt see even the slightest twitch. The Pearl sang to him not to give in but he knew he was going to let Beckett see his wings if that's all that took to save his ship and possibly his crew. So with a resigned, angry sigh, he let his massive wings unfurl and he would have _purred_ at the sensation of the wind ruffling his feathers. The sensitivity after bringing Swann back had faded but he had not felt wind in a year and it was nearly an aphrodisiac. The heat of the sun combined with the wind and the smell of the sea felt heavenly and only the knowledge that there were enemies here dampened the loveliness of the moment.

The gasps of the observers when he fully unfurled the feathered appendages was not an uncommon reaction. He heard it about as often as gun fire, if he let anyone see them, that is. Every feather was soft and so _black_ that it absorbed sunlight and it reflected as a slightly bluish-grayish sheen, making him think of a long time ago, when his wings had gold on them and it would glitter like coins. But his wings were as impressive and as intimidating, not to mention as beautiful if in a different way, as they had always been, judging by the reactions he always keeps getting. Seventeen foot three was, after all, a very impressive wing span. Some higher ranking _angels_ don't have wings this big.

"Marvelous." Beckett breathed, coming closer to the Curatrix, eyes mesmerized by the wings. "Incredible. Not only have they changed color, they've _grown_."

"What?" The Pirate Lord of the Caribbean Sea asked in confusion. He hadn't exactly had the time to take a look at his wings or _measure_ them. Not that he could. Well, not on his own. He'd need help. Besides, it didn't _look_ like they'd grown to him. How would that even be possible? A Curatrix's wings stop growing when their power stabilizes and reaches their prime. Jack's had stopped growing a little after he was branded a pirate, fifteen or so years ago. Maybe that's what Beckett meant?

"Changed color?" Someone asked from behind him but neither Jack nor Beckett paid them much mind.

"Get the measuring tape. I want to see this for myself." The Englishman said authoritatively and a marine saluted before rushing off to get it. As Jack watched him run off, his eyes landed on two familiar faces that he hadn't seen in person for almost three whole years. The good Lieutenants that had been under his Jamie's command, his friends, if Jack remembered right. So Beckett was keeping them close to keep his Tutela under his thumb? Well, Jack'll see about that.

"You better stay away from me, Beckett. I don't want you touching me." The pirate growled, sending a message to his Pearl that she understood all too well. Slowly, carefully, stealthily, the ropes of her lines started traveling across the deck, moving towards their targets as the ship _purred_ at the thought of getting rid of the Singapore men.

"Not so fast," Sao Feng finally interfered, sick of being ignored and he stepped towards Beckett when the man moved towards Sparrow. Beckett just looked at him in annoyance until Mercer came up and made Feng step down. "You told me the Pearl was to be mine."

"This is the Company's ship." Beckett said with a small sardonic smile. "Isn't that right, Jack?"

Jack returned his smile with a razor sharp one. "Not while I still live." With those words he tugged at the restraining hands and gave a powerful beat of his wings, freeing himself in seconds. He took to the air just as the ropes started plucking up both men from Singapore and the marines, freeing his crew of their watchful gaze and dangerous weapons. A rope took hold of the keyring off of one of the men and threw it at Gibbs, who was beyond flabbergasted at what was going on but had been around Jack Sparrow long enough to just roll with it. He set to work immediately, freeing all the men as fast as he could and a fight soon broke out.

Jack, however, found himself facing a surprising adversary. With a wing span of fifteen feet and seven inches, Ian Mercer was the first humanoid winged being that Jack has come across to even _attempt_ to try and compete with him where wing size is concerned but he was by no means a Curatrix. The magic in him, the divinity, was clearer. He was an angel. And a fallen one, judging from the state of his wings. They looked like they'd been burnt by fire, rotting slowly away, the feathers few and far in between. Probably for killing a human. That was usually enough to get you in trouble for eternity. He must have tried to escape heaven and this was how his fall had left him.

Mercer gave Jack an appraising look, a smirk settling on his lips. "So _you_ are the one the gods have chosen? It's a little pathetic, how they now rest the fate of their power over mortals on someone like _you_."

Jack grit his teeth, not really sure what the other was talking about but that was definitely an insult right there. He didn't know why Mercer would bring up gods in the conversation - he only knew a couple of them personally and that was a well kept secret - but he didn't like the implications that he was incompetent or weak or _pathetic_. "They sure as hell weren't going to chose _you_ , mate, that's for sure. What did you do? Kill a priest? Show yourself to a sinner? Go on a little vigilante high or something?"

"Actually, I killed an angel, the Curatrix they were training and that Curatrix's human. They thought I was out of line when _they_ were planning an assassination attempt." The fallen angel replied with an almost perfectly masked sneer. "Never mind that they were about to start a war with that one action. The gods were more pissed that the one I killed was the most powerful Curatrix they had made by then, meant to do their bidding on earth. Ten feet sure doesn't do much for your powers. But _you_ ," he said with an appreciative smile. "They have now made _you_ , Mr Sparrow. You are much more powerful and well protected. Your father is a powerful Curatrix for his humble wing span." He sighs, as thought disappointed. "Too bad I couldn't get to you fast enough. Your mother had put up too much of a fight. I wouldn't have harmed her. I just wanted _you_. But she just _had_ to fight. Such a shame. She was a fierce warrior."

Jack's face had lost all color at the words coming from the mercenary's mouth. He had always been told his mother had grown weak shortly after giving birth to him. If what Mercer is saying is true, though, then she had been ... She had been murdered. His father's overprotective nature suddenly made a whole lot of more sense. His wife murdered and his son almost meeting the same fate? It was a miracle he hadn't gone mad. He must have held himself together only for Jack's sake. That was why he had been willing to fight his own Tutela for his son.

"But she still cried so prettily when I dealt her the killing blow. Or was it because I was heading for you next?" Mercer said with a taunting grin which disappeared from his face as Jack lounged for him with a snarl that would have sent a lesser man bawling for his mother. The assassin had obviously not expected for Jack to completely forgo his cutlass and pistol and grapple with him in the air like a pair of wrestlers, nor had he expected to find Jack to be stronger than him and far more skilled. When his father had sent him off to see the world with the other Pirate Lords of his Da's time, Jack had spent many weeks learning a whole new set of skills, including various fighting styles and sailor tricks, not just languages and about ships. He'd spent a good amount of time in the East. Japanese and Chinese martial arts were a delight to learn, as were African wrestling techniques. Jack could take a man twice his size in a grappling match on the ground by the time he was nine. But in the _air_ ... He has no match in the air. His wings are bigger and stronger than any other Curatrix's that he had met in his life.

Mercer may have years of experience on him - angels were immortal and it had been a _long_ time ago that the ten-feet-guardian (as some referred to him as) had been recorded, alive and then dead - but Jack had a bagful of tricks, not to mention superior strength in his wings. He can be an angel all he wants. Jack had hauled a ship across land all by himself - he still wasn't sure whether his 'other selves' from the Locker had really been of any help or if he was simply accepting it that they were to make himself believe the more rational explanation.

Mercer yelped when Jack let his feathers become hard like steel and razor sharp, cutting him with every third or fourth beat of his wings, drawing blood. He didn't have a good angle to give him a more grave injury, but that was not going to stop him from hurting him as much as he can. This was for his mother. That thought alone had him unflinchingly plucking one of his own steel-hard feathers and plunging it into Mercer's chest, just a little lower than his heart should have been, had he been a human and had actual anatomy. The assassin hissed in pain, his grip on Jack slacking when Jack heard a call from bellow.

"Capt'n! We're goin', sir!" Gibbs called from the Pearl's deck, now free of all but the core crew and one chained up Will Turner. Jack nodded to his first mate and flung Mercer away from him. Gibbs immediately set sail with the permission as Jack landed, not on the Pearl but on the Endeavor, fiddling with a cannon, a rope and a flint. He didn't bother with turning around when he heard the telltale sound of a pistol being cocked.

"I'm not letting you go, Sparrow." Beckett told him coldly and with steel in his voice. "Not until you give me what I want."

"You're asking for something I can't give, mate, even if I wanted to. And I _don't_." Sparrow gave him a defiant look over his shoulder. "I already have a Tutela, as I've told you before. And I don't plan on changing them. What's more, I _can't_. Because our souls are connected. You have your own Curatrix, somewhere, maybe. But it's not me and I can't be more grateful for that."

"I will hunt your charge down and kill them before your very eyes, Jack. I'll warn you only this once. If you don't become my Curatrix and serve in my Company, you will be the cause of their death."

"And I'll just hate you even more for it and not want to be your Curatrix even more." He turned back to the cannon, done with both the preparations and the conversation. "It ain't possible, Beckett, and even if it were, you've done me enough wrongs that I wouldn't even consider it, not for a second." He turned around with a grin, letting Beckett see the rope wrapped around the barrel that Jack had slung over the yardarm and was holding onto the other end of.

"You're _mad_." Beckett says with an incredulous frown and an almost scandalized shock in his voice. Jack just grinned smugly at him as he finally used the flint to light the cannon.

"Thank goodness for that because otherwise, this may never have worked." Before the Lord could say anything else, the cannon fired, hitting something on the main deck, if the crunching and cracking was anything to go by, the recoil of the cannon more than enough force to tug the rope and Jack with it into the air, flinging him far off the ship, where he just spread his wings and flew away towards the rapidly retreating Black Pearl.

"Signal the Flying Dutchman to go after the Empress," Beckett barked the order at one Theodor Groves before the man could ask him about their next course of action. "Turn her about. We're to follow the Black Pearl to Shipwreck Cove. How fast before we can engage in pursuit?" As if to answer his question, before the Lieutenant even opened his mouth to answer, the mainmast finally gave way from where the cannon ball had struck it, making a big hole through half of it and the entire thing fell over, into the sea, sinking beneath the waves, never to be seen again. The merrily billowing pirate flag on the top main mast of the black ship seemed to be mocking them with silent laughter as said black ship got further and further away, her Captain already long since having reclaimed command.

"Do you think he plans it all out?" Theodore Groves asked with an awed voice and a slight smile. "Or just makes it up as he goes along?"

Not even the glare Beckett sens his way is enough to make him drop his grin.


	28. Chapter 28

The fight aboard his beloved ship went a hell of a lot better than he could have hoped. Barbossa had managed to strike a deal with Sao Feng so that the man would help them fight the Navy men. What he exchanged for that, though, baffled Jack to no end. What could Sao Feng _possibly_ want with Elizabeth? Her father looked ready to have a heart attacks and a seizure at the same time and they didn't have a qualified medic or doctor of any sort aboard. He didn't know what the lass was thinking, but he knew one thing for certain.

Sao Feng had agreed to go to Shipwreck Cove and if he tries any funny business, he has little doubt Lizzy won't be able to deal with him properly.

However, that left _him_ with having to deal with her distraught father and her pestilent, traitorous, cowhearted, yeasty codpiece of a future husband, who he had ended up sending to the brig. He didn't have much of a choice. He simply didn't trust the younger Turner anymore. He could have gone and saved him a thousand times and Jack wouldn't have been able to bring himself to let him roam free on his beloved ship. _Especially_ not after the little show they've made during their escape.

Speaking of which, he had had to make up some story regarding the Black Pearl's obvious and undeniable sentience to his crew, who had been half panicked by the prospect of a haunted ship and the like. He had had to sit them down and tell them, in great detail, how some shaman he once met, long, long ago, told him the Black Pearl had actually been some sort of sea nymph until she fell in love with a human and broke some magical law by extending his lifetime with half of her own and how other creatures of magical origin took it bad and punished her by turning her into a ship, because her beloved hated sailing - he said he was some art chap who only liked _painting_ the sea and not living on it or even _by_ it so he obviously disliked ships. Anyway, the story was bought instantly by the crew, except Barbossa, who simply doubted every word to come out of Jack's mouth, and Gibbs and Tia Dalma, who knew the truth. It was enough to placate them and Jack was left with only one thing to deal with.

One ex-Governor Weatherby Swann, to be precise.

The man has been fretting and sulking and pacing and brooding since they parted ways with the Empress and - thank the gods - the Endeavor, no doubt worried about his daughter and a little fearful of the pirates he was on the same boat with. Not that any of them planned on attacking the man - they had bigger things to worry about, thank you very much - but that didn't mean much to the man. Sao Feng had requested Elizabeth to go with him and she, spiteful of Will but also not doubting where she will eventually end up and be reunited with the pirates of the Black Pearl, had said yes. Sao Feng was probably doubting his own sanity for ever demanding she be given to him, especially with how pissed she had seemed, and Jack didn't envy him in the least. But he _did_ worry a little about the young woman.

After all, Sao Feng wasn't exactly known for being good company and very merciful. Or respectful of the fairer sex.

Sparrow sighed as he sat down beside the worried Governor, letting Barbossa oversee their course for the moment. The older Pirate Lord knew the direction and Jack will only be needed when they approach Shipwreck Island, let alone the Crossing and then the navigation through the Cove. That won't be needed for at least another day, if their current speed was anything to go by. Right now, the crew didn't need him. Between Hector and Joshamee, they'll keep her steady and his lady knew the course as well as he did, so if there was any funny business, she will tell him. The one who seems to be in need of him - or just anyone, really - was the good Governor. He was going to worry himself sick the way he was going. Jack hadn't wasted a feather to bring him back just to watch the man dig himself his own grave due to high blood pressure or heart failure or something.

"You know," he began. "She's alright. Just fine and dandy. Now, I know I said I'm not her Curatrix - and I assure you, I am not-"

"I know." Weatherby said with a refuel smile. Jack was surprised the man had just cut him off, what with his usual manners and the such. "You're James'." Jack stiffened immediately, wings just _begging_ that he unfurl them to threaten this human who dared mention _his_ human. "I saw your ...gem," he vaguely indicated at the black pearl hanging from one of Jack's dreadlocks. "And I have caught him one too many times staring at a black pearl, just like yours, just as cracked as yours had been during the Locker thing. But yours is now whole, so his must be too, right?"

"You mustn't tell. _Anyone_." Jack doesn't answer the question, instead getting into Swann's face to express how serious he was being. "If word ever got back to Beckett, Jamie would be a dead man within minutes. I've made plenty of enemies over the years, Gov'rnor. There are too many people who would kill him just to get to me. And I can't risk that. Please promise you won't tell anyone?"

"I haven't even told Elizabeth." Weatherby points out reasonably. "Who else would I tell if not my own daughter?" He shakes his head. "Besides, I know better than to do something so foolish. I may not be a Tutela or a Curatrix myself but I _do_ know how important that bond is. It should be sacred, not abused as we do it injustice of doing now. Not to mention that I am extremely fond of James myself." He locks brown eyes with black ones in all seriousness. "He has been miserable for a year now. I'm guessing ever since you ended up in the Locker?"

Jack nodded. "Aye, he was nearby, even, when it happened."

Swann got a worried and bewildered look on his face. "Wait. He wasn't ... He wasn't in any way _responsible_ for your 'death', was he?" Jack's silence was answer enough and Swann's face fell. "Oh no. Then he's acting like this because your bond has snapp-"

"The bond is still there and just fine." The pirate cuts him off before he could start rambling. "If it weren't, there would be no gems left, for either of us."

"But how?"

"I don't know?" And he really didn't. Was it really his own stubbornness and unwillingness to let James go what preserved the bond, despite the natural laws of the supernatural that should have punished James for having a hand in his demise by breaking their bond? Or was it because it hadn't been he himself that shackled Jack to the mast and left him to die on his ship? Could be that the bond survived because of the sheer power Jack possessed and that's what saved it. He really didn't know. He's never heard of it happening before. Usually when one of the two halves of that bond raises a hand against the other, it's the end of things, for good. And yet here their bond was, telling him that his Jamie was just fine. That was good enough for him, either way, so he wasn't going to ask questions.

"Is it stable?"

"As stable as it ever was."

"Is he ..." The older man hesitated, earning himself an arched eyebrow from the pirate. "Is he safe? Is he well?"

"That's an odd question to ask, Gov'rnor, especially as it was _you_ who saw him last. At least that I know of, anyway." The Pirate Lord of the Caribbean asked, unease settling in his stomach. A year without human contact was likely to leave him quite rusty in deciphering the finer fluctuations in the 'signals' he gets through the bond. Could it be that he had messed up somehow and Jamie was in trouble?

"Not at all an odd question when the last _I_ saw of him was while he was sailing on the Flying Dutchman as the East India Trading Company's flagship."

Those words were enough to drain almost all of the color off of Jack's face and fill him with dread that he had never experienced before. He wasn't sure whether he could have imagined a worse case scenario than Norrington being both under Beckett's thumb and in arms reach of Davy Jones at the same time. That was his nightmare turned reality and he was not happy. Jack Sparrow could get out of nearly anything and everything, having some strange favor with Lady Luck, amongst favor of the other gods as well. That, however, did not extend to his Tutela. James had not had much luck in his life, especially for the past couple of years but _this_ ... This was quite possibly the worst mess he's been in in his entire life. And it was all Jack's fault, too.

He had to get him out of there. As soon as possible. Preferably before anyone figures out his connection to Jack. His charge was in danger on that bloody cursed ship without already being a thorn in Jones' side. They may not know what James' gem was, but just as Weatherby had noticed, there was always that same possibility and danger that someone else will, too. Beckett didn't trust Norrington, which was to be expected as the ex Commodore had a honorable, admirable moral code that he does not break. Ever. Beckett had his interests and goals and Norrington could come to stand between him and those interests and goals. Which means that, besides holding his two Lieutenants - his friends - close, he will no doubt send another assassin to work in the midsts of Norrington's men to keep an eye on him. Or maybe even Mercer himself.

Just the thought of the fallen angel had his feathers bristling, even though his wings were not out.

Jack had heard of a fallen angel. A fallen _archangel_ , even, to be precise. He's heard that the disgraced celestial creation had been lurking in these waters for the past couple of years, but he had not expected it to be Beckett's little secretary assassin. That was more than unexpected. He was a powerful one, more powerful than anyone Jack has ever faced before. To be expected. Even though he was a fallen, that didn't take away the amount of power he held. It only made it dark and twisted and sickening to be around. Jack had nearly been overwhelmed by the blackness of Mercer's essence - higher ranking angels didn't exactly possess a soul that could be bound to a human to watch over. Curatrix were children of angels and humans and they lived and died among humanity. But not only Tutela and Curatrix possessed items or gems; everyone did. But the gems that had no match in the earthly realm had one in the ranks of angles who were also guardians, only from a distance and things like that. _Those_ were guardian angels. Not Curatrix - and his soul still shuddered as he recalled how sick it made him feel. A lesser Curatrix would have lost consciousness at such close proximity to someone like that.

But Jack Sparrow was not like other, normal Curatrix and even Mercer had insinuated something similar, implying that the gods' favor of him had an ulterior motive. Oh, he didn't doubt it. Just like the humans they've created and put in Jack's path, they, too, always want something from him, the most powerful Curatrix created so far. He just didn't know yet what it was. But he _will_ find out, he can promise that much.

"I hope he's alright." He registers and looks over to the fretting man, only to curse to himself when he realized Swann had been rambling and Jack had totally tuned him out. He could have been saying something important about his charge! But if he had been indeed saying something important about his charge, his Curatrix instincts would have snapped him to attention immediately. No harm done, even if it was a bit rude of him.

"He is. For now at least. And so is Lizzy. No one's dying or nothin'." That seemed to be enough for Swann and he fell silent again. But Jack now had a world of worries ahead of himself.

Bugger.

He hoped Jamie stayed well out of trouble.

00000

He seems to have jinxed himself and James both -and maybe Elizabeth, too - with that one foolish though because he found himself jerking awake some time after midnight that very same night, spikes of fear and desperation shooting through the bond and his senses alerting him that not only was his charge in danger, but also one protectee. Without a second's hesitation or a moment of thought, Jack was running out of his cabin, startling Will - who was in the middle of some shifty business regarding the corpses that had remained on the Pearl after the fight was finished and some barrels - as he lunged over the railing, spreading his wings and taking flight.

Unexpectedly, the world blurred all around him but he paid it no mind.

He had a Tutela to save.

00000

Elizabeth and James both felt no shame in saying that they were afraid, despite the things they had seen, fought and survived. But for all of that - the pirates, the monsters, the curses, the impossible and very probable both, they still felt fear. Fear that they will die, here and now, on this accursed ship of the damned and that they will be left to roam the seas for eternity. They were to die here, at the hands of none other than Bootstrap Bill, Will's father, and the man won't even care.

The curse of the Flying Dutchman had taken all emotion from this broken man. His only hope was his son, whom he probably won't even remember if he stays on this damned ship any longer. Talking to him did no good, either, nor did James trying to order him to stand back. His first loyalty - forced as it may be - was to the Captain of the Flying Dutchman and Admiral James Norrington was not it. They were both desperate, to the point that James had already said his goodbye to Elizabeth - in a rather dramatic way she had not expected of him; seriously, kissing her right before he prepared to sacrifice himself so she and her newfound crew (she couldn't wait to see Jack's reaction to _that_ bit of news)? He certainly developed a flair for dramatics that almost matched of one particular Jack Sparrow - before forcing her to start descending the hauling rope back to the crippled but still sea worthy Empress as he drew sword and pistol.

But Elizabeth had not made it far before Bootstrap was there and calling an alert to everyone about their escape. James was presented with a choice. If he hesitated any longer in cutting the rope, then Elizabeth and the Singapore pirates will never get a chance to escape. But if he were to devote his attention to the rope, he's left wide open for an attack and he knew, right then and there, that he was going to die.

 _'I'm sorry, Jack,'_ he wished he could tell his guardian. In the end, it would seem he will be the one to break the promise he had practically begged with Jack to make. _'Maybe in the next life.'_ Maybe they won't be enemies by birth. Maybe they won't have to hide their bond. Maybe they can be together. Maybe James won't mess up. He pulls the trigger and the rope hauling the Empress snaps, Elizabeth, Tai Huang and half a dozen other pirates falling into the water with a startled yelp, but still holding on. He has just enough time to turn around and see Turner lunge for him-

Before there is an almost animalistic, desperate cry and something rams into the cursed pirate with the force and speed of a giant bullet. Bootstrap flies straight through the wall, stunned and quite possibly unconscious, and a disgruntled, panting Jack Sparrow, alive but disheveled and yet _alive_ , comes out of the hole in the wall, eyes frantically appraising Norrington from head to toe. Tension leaves his shoulders and erect wings before the should-be-dead pirate grabs hold of him and flings them both overboard, his massive wings - were they bigger or was it just James? - easily picking up the slack and before Norrington knew it, Jack had deposited him on the main deck of the Empress. He was at the helm with one flap of his wings, adjusting their course to his liking before he dived into the water, reappearing at the back of the ship, the snapped end of the rope in hand as he lifted the remaining pirates in the water out of it and deposited them down on the deck as well.

He then did something none of them could see well in the darkness of night with not even the moon to shin some light on them before a giant gust of wind jerked the Empress along the course he had set for them. It was a lot faster than a ship like this should have been able to go, least of all with the damage she had suffered, but the Empress just sailed along while her crew watched in confusion as Sparrow flew back to the Dutchman, picked something up and disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared, out of thin air and into thin air.

The pirates and one now no doubt ex Commodore and ex Admiral just stared at the spot where the Curatrix had last been seen in bewilderment.

"Was that Jack Sparrow?" Someone asked.

James laughed in something akin to disbelieving relief.


	29. Chapter 29

Jack hissed in pain as he crash landed on the deck of his beloved Black Pearl, feeling light headed and very, _very_ disoriented. He had no idea what he had just done or how he had done it, but he had somehow achieved a speed he had never heard of before outside of a deity's skill set. He could feel every single feather in his wings and he sort of ached all over and he swore he was seeing double for a few seconds before he could focus again.

Now if only his head would stop aching.

The shouting of his crew and the whelp were not helping matters at all.

"Git outta de way!" Ah, you could always count on Tia Dalma. She easily maneuvered the others away and into silence as she and - judging by the nails - Barbossa helped him sit up. Jack couldn't quite hold back a groan as he rubbed at his temples. He was pretty sure he ached more from the landing roughly - twice - than the strange type of travel itself. And he was soaking wet, too. Again. Bugger. And there was something lying on his left wing and it hurt.

Memories of what had happened rushed back to him when the one lying on his wing lurched to their feet and ran for the railing, his sea-creature covered self scaring the living daylights out of his crew as they scrambled away from the frantic William Bootstrap Bill Turner. He must have been feeling the call and pull of the curse, because he made to jump overboard, but Jack was on him faster than a cheetah, pinning him down and doing his best to avoid being hit with flailing limps.

"Gibbs! Prepare the brig! Tia Dalma, you know what I need, there's some in my cabin. You lot, help me tie him down and drag him to the brig!" When the crew remained rooted to their spots while Gibbs and the voodoo witch went to do as told, Barbossa barked for the pirates to move it while bringing over some sturdy rope and tying Bootstrap's legs while a weary Marty came over to do the same with his wrists.

"No!" Will decided to jump into action right then, indignant at his father's treatment. "I won't let you do this, Jack!" He lunged, some rusty old knife in hand and buried it deep into Jack's already hurting left wing. The guardian cried out in pain that momentarily had a wide eyed Bill stopping, scared eyes clearing up a bit in recognition before the curse dragged him back down under. Before the man's son could do any more harm or make the difficult situation any worse, Swann of all people clobbered him over the head with the butt of a surprised Ragetti's pistol and Will crumbled to the ground like a puppet without strings. Ragetti and Pintel then dragged him away while Cotton came to help move the mostly immobilized cursed pirate just as Tia Dalma came out of the captain's cabin with some strange looking and foul smelling red powder in a silver jar with a dragon drawn on it. She followed the men bellow deck and stood aside to let Ragetti and Pintel lock up Will into one of the remaining good cells.

Across from it, Jack and his group lowered Bootstrap onto the floor and had to restrain the squirming and trashing man while Jack knelt down before him, grimacing in pain at the state of his wing. He waved Tia Dalma over as he plucked yet another feather - three in a row in just as many days; if he keeps this up, he'll be unable to fly and resemble an oven ready turkey - and she poured sea water into a cup before adding two spoonfuls of the red powder. Jack added his feather and let her do her magic as she made it boil in her bare hands. At her nod, he plucked a hair from the still struggling Bill, making him yelp, and handed it to her before sitting back to wait. The spell was soon over with a strange incantation Jack pretended not to understand before the cup was given to him, bubbling and steaming and yet somehow cold as ice. He knew, from experience, that the bubbles and the steam _were_ scalding hot, so he very carefully took it from Tia Dalma before approaching Bill just as Will came to and tried to interfere.

"Let 'im do it," Tia Dalma commanded with a surprisingly strong grip on his elbow, stopping him in his tracks. "Dis be de only way."

"What?" The confused younger Turner asked. Tia Dalma nodded to where Barbossa - also knowing the shtick (don't ask how or why; he's had a lot of experience with certain curses and that's all you need to know) - was now forcing Bill's head still and his mouth open as Jack straddled the older Turner in order to keep him down and get a good shot at his mouth.

"De only way yer father will walk a free, livin' man." The only woman aboard replied before her penetrating gaze focused on Jack as he finally managed to start pouring the suspicious looking liquid down his throat. Will watched as well, worriedly observing how his father spluttered and almost choked a few times but drank almost greedily whatever that red stuff was. "Brace yerselves." She warned when the last of the liquid was gone.

There was a long moment of stilled, tense silence before the older Turner started screaming his throat raw and Jack suddenly went limp as a doll. Bootstrap broke away from the restraining hands and Hector only just barely managed to get Jack off of the wildly trashing man as death, sea-creatures and the curse were ripped out ans off of him none too gently and life started seeping in. Will watched in fascination and fear and anguish as his father was slowly returning to him, hope and happiness filling his being until noth-

"He's not breathin'!" Barbossa's call snapped his attention to the too still, too pale - too _lifeless_ \- form of Jack Sparrow as the Caspian Pirate Lord tried to shake, slap, yell, talk the other up, the younger man propped up against his chest, his own tanned chest open as if on display with his shirt barely hanging on to his hips. Panic shot through Will and the rest of the men as Tia Dalma cursed and fell down by Jack's side. "It's the bloody wing wound! We 'ave ta treat it, now!" Guilt shot through Will at that and it was soon followed by both shame and fear. What had he done? Why couldn't he just trust Jack?

"Wot's goin' on?" Marty asked in a strangely panicky voice for the midget man. Despite his size, he was a ferocious fellow and didn't scare easy. And yet here he was, panicking because the Captain he had chosen to follow even to the Locker and edges of death was now _dying_ and it was all Will's fault.

"A complicated spell dat usually 'as no such effect on Witty Jack." The voodoo sorceress said as she ripped off a piece of her skirts and set them on flame with what seemed barely a thought, pressing the flamed cloth to the wound. Jack didn't so much as flinch but his feathers turned to steel to protect themselves from the fire as it cauterized the wound immediately. She then sprinkled some of the red powder over the closed wound and they watched it heal until it looked as though nothing was there at all. "It purges 'vrythin' dat don't belong from de body, but it takes energy ta do so from a host. An' only a Curatrix can survive ta be de host. Only _Witty Jack_ can survive bein' de host. But he's weakened."

"Must be th' Locker." Gibbs reasons and no one disagrees. Jack said he had _hauled the Black Pearl across miles upon miles of land all by himself_. For a year straight, without pause for longer than a few hours nap. He had then fought a fallen angel not long after and then did that ... strange disappearance-reappearance thing and had returned with Bill seemingly out of nowhere. That's quite a lot to do, no matter how you slice it.

"Nay. It's the wound. Ya don't go injuring a Curatrix just b'fore they're 'bout to attempt something this dangerous and taxing!" Barbossa snapped in Will's direction, glaring at the younger Turner, who could only look away in shame. Jack still wasn't breathing and Tia Dalma was staring to worry. She was contemplating giving him some of the red powder to drink, too, when he suddenly gasped and sprang up, nearly knocking both her and Hector over, huffing for breath.

He stared at her with incredulous eyes, as though he had read her thoughts. "Dragon mane is _not_ to be wasted for such simple things, no matter how much Shin-Ching Mao owes me."

"Would ye rather ye die?!" She snapped back at him before shaking her head. "Lie back down, ya fool. Ye need rest."

"An' that's not up fer discussion. Yer father's already goin' to have me head. I'd like for it to at least be quick." Barbossa groused and pulled Sparrow back until he was resting against the older Pirate Lord again. "I'm too old fer yer crap, Jack. And ye're too old to be doin' things like that, too."

"Nonsense," Jack slurred in pure exhaustion. "'M Capt'n Jack Sparrow. I can d' 'nythin'."

"Ye're an idiot is wot ye are, Capt'n," another exhausted and raw - probably from the screaming - voice cut in before anyone else could say anything and they all whipped around to stare at the barely awake but decidedly _not_ cursed Willian Turner Senior as he propped himself up against the wall of the hull with shaking arms. "Wot got inta yer 'ead ta do somethin' stupid like that?"

"Yer own fault, mate." Jack quipped back with a tired golden grin. "Ye 'ad ta go an' open yer big mouth, aye?"

"Aye. 'Twasn't right, Jack, an' I stand to that to the day I die." Bill said with a determined nod. "Should've said somethin' right away, warned ye at least, stopped th' mutiny. I landed right where I belonge-"

"Finish tha' sentence and I will come over there to kick some sense into ye. Savvy?"

"Aye, Capt'n."

"Good." Jack nodded and promptly fell asleep against Barbossa, who only rolled his eyes heavenwards and then snorted when he saw Bootstrap do the same.

"Jus' like ol' times, aye?" Pintel and Ragetti commented to each other, thinking back to the good old times when Bill and Hector would go to great lengths to ensure Jack didn't spend all night at the helm, Bootstrap usually falling asleep as soon as Jack's eyes closed while Barbossa was left with watched over them both and never seeming to mind. It seemed like a lifetime ago and yet it had been barely thirteen years.

"I'll get the whelp to 'is bed." Barbossa groused, lifting Jack up with almost the same ease he used to do it when the man was a decade younger. Then again, Jack had always been and stayed on the skinny side while a sailor's life kept Barbossa in shape, so not much has changed there. The old habits seem to have stayed as well, despite all that was now between Captain and once first mate.

"I don't need to be put to bed," Will snapped at Barbossa, who only gave him a confused look.

"Not you, ya bilge rat." Was all he said before carrying the Curatrix off, struggling only a little up the stairs to the deck. Will stared after him until Pintel and Ragetti gestured back to his cell.

"In ye go." Was all the shorter, rounder pirate said with a malicious grin and Will frowned at him, but both he and his partner had guns pointed at him, so Will conceded and did as he was told. He could escape later, anyway. "We'll put ol' Bootstrap in his old hammock." The man called after Gibbs, who nodded as he followed after the two Pirate Lords and Tia Dalma.

Only to come to a stop by the pile of bodies Will had been tying to barrels and leaving to float like a breadcrumb trail, no doubt for Beckett to follow. He went bellow deck. "Marty, keep a weather eye on that traitor. He's been leadin' Beckett t' us this whole time!"

Judging by the scowl on the short man's face, if Will tried anything, he'll be getting it from Marty and getting it good. Gibbs doesn't pity him at all.

"How's he doin'?" Gibbs asked as soon as he entered the captain's cabin, finding Jack laid to rest and covered by a blanket, Barbossa sitting on some chest and drinking rum while Tia Dalma hovered over the Curatrix. Jack looked too still, too small, too _fragile_ in his current state. He reminded Gibbs more of his twelve year old self in his sleep than Gibbs would ever willingly admit to his Captain. The man might just try not to sleep at all if he heard something like that. He knew Jack well enough that he could not tolerate to show any kind of weakness in front of others, no matter how close or dear a friend they might be. It had very little to do with the mutiny and all to do with his upbringing. Who he was, who he was to _become_ , needed him to always put up a strong front for others.

He too often forgot that just because he _pretended_ that he was more fey and invincible than human didn't diminish the fact that he _was_ human, even if only partially.

He too often needed to be reminded of that fact.

"He'll be fine wiff some rest." The woman replied with a tired sigh, sitting down by Jack's hip on the bed. "'E'll be sens'tive an' tired, but Witty Jack will wake come mornin' an' be fine." Gibbs winced. Jack did so hate to be _that_ kind of sensitive. The simplest brush could arouse lust in him despite him not being in the mood at all. The wings of a Curatrix were a part of their very soul that transcends into the physical world. While taking a feather didn't exactly hurt, it wasn't all that pleasant either.

"How long could he do that ... " Barbossa flailed one hand around, searching for the right words. "That teleportation thing?"

"Aye, that's a new one, ev'n fer me." The current first mate stated as he sat down on another random crate and took out his flask. It was already half empty, much to his annoyance.

Tia Dalma only shrugged. "Not even I or Witty Jack know wot 'e can and can't do. We tested and experimented, but we nev'r got de chance ta reach a limit dat says 'e can't do no more."

"Is that why he so often returned from yer hut more tired than when he went?" Both of Jack Sparrow's first mates asked, exchanging a narrow eyed look when they realized it, too. Barbossa didn't have anything particularly against Gibbs and Gibbs himself only really hated Barbossa for the near madness he had caused his Captain and friend. Everything else was normal pirating business so they didn't hold it against each other. That didn't mean they agreed on many things, either way.

"Could be," she smiled secretively at them both before standing up and making shooing motions with her hands. "We should let Witty Jack rest. Tomorrow will be a long day. Fer all of us." The two men exchanged looks at that but did as they were told when she glared at them. It was not worth dying to displease Tia Dalma, that was for certain. Besides, she was right. Sparrow would definitely need some rest. It will be the first real rest he gets in a _long_ time. He more than deserved it.

"Think he'll be up fer the Crossing?" Gibbs asked uneasily and Barbosss grimaced. The Crossing was no topic any sailor wants to contemplate. It's the most dangerous passage on water that is actually survivable. The shipwreck yard at Isla de Muerta was like child's play in comparison and there was only one person aboard the Black Pearl that could make the Crossing one hundred percent safely.

"We better hope. I may know how to make it in theory, but I've never done it on me own before. If he ain't up to it, though, that'll be our only option." And Barbossa would rather not have to do it. The Crossing had a way of sending shivers down his spine on a good day, when he was just standing back and Sparrow was doing the stirring. He wasn't sure if he could keep it together under the stress. The Crossing of bigger ships lasted for hours and if the captain is not good at maneuverability, the crew might as well jump to the sharks on their own. The Crossing was no joking matter. The only ones who _could_ joke about it as they easily maneuvered through it were the constant inhabitants of Shipwreck Cove themselves. Especially those born in it. The Crossing is a part of their upbringing and everyday lives.

Just another reason Jack was the best choice.

"Let's 'ave some faith in 'im." Tia Dalma said with a smile before heading to the forecastle to rest for the night.

The two men had no choice but to follow and hope for the best.


	30. Chapter 30

Jack found himself bolting awake for the second time in less than twenty four hours, only this time the reason was a lot less ominous and a lot more pleasant. Namely, the feeling of his ship, his home and his Tutela were soothing to his senses in a way he could never quite explain. He relaxed his body as he leaned sideways into the hull of his beloved Black Pearl and enjoyed her affectionate 'good morning' purr as he let the feelings wash over him.

Shipwreck Island and the Cove it housed have been doused in magic long before pirates first found it and declared it their own. It was a sort of sanctuary, and not just for pirates, but for anyone seeking to escape the binds of society and hypocritical laws that awaited them on land, although you had to have someone vouch for you if you want to live there. The first Brethren Court have found it and refitted it so it was well beyond livable. In this one Cove, on this one unknown, uncharted - to everyone but pirates - island, all the pirates in the world could live without coming into - direct - contact with the outside world for well over fifty years at any time and that's just on the constant stores they keep. That was not counting all the resources they can grow and cultivate on the island itself and their secret way of trading with other secluded communities, but let's not get into that right now. The point was the magic. It protected the island from other magical creatures that were not registered in its books, one of the Keeper's responsibilities that Jack was not looking forward to inheriting some day that he knew must come. His Da wouldn't live forever and only Jack was appropriately trained - not to mention of the appropriate bloodline - to be his successor when he finally steps down.

The magic of the cove prevented invasion by forces humans would not be able to stand up to if they were to enter the Cove by any unnatural means. Mermaids would be a disaster, as they would have a buffet feast presented to them on a silver platter with the words 'ENJOY' written in blood. The Kraken would have been too big to get past the passage but there were smaller creatures but just as destructive as it had been that could easily rip them all apart from the inside. Gods in their true form could not enter, only in the guise of a human of flesh and blood. Witches, sorcerers, shamans, voodoo priests and partitioners, ghosts, spirits, cursed or supernatural individuals, _hell_ , even Curatrix, had to be registered as welcome entities if they wished to enter the Cove. If not, the barrier around the island will push them out and off whatever means of transportation that had brought them.

Shipwreck Cove was meant to be an impenetrable fortress and that included from magical means, too.

Only the Keeper of the Pirate Code or his Heir can register a magical being and allow them entrance. The fact that the Keeper and his Heir come from a long, strong Curatrix bloodline more than helps. Edward and Jack E. Teague 'Sparrow' are son and grandson of 'Grandmama' Teague, second Pirate Lord of the Atlantic, who had married Jackson Edward Teague, son of Johnathon Alexander Teague, the first Pirate King of the Brethren Court and the first Pirate Lord of the Caribbean. And every male in their direct family tree was a Curatrix, including Johnathon 'Uncle Jack' Teague, Jack Sparrow's only paternal uncle. The only sour spot to their cheery pirate bloodline was the fact that every single one of them had a Navy Tutela. A _Norrington_. And so far, only the first Pirate King had had some semblance of happiness with his charge before said charge was married off to some lady in an arranged marriage after some injury to his shoulder that stopped him from active duty because he could no longer lift a sword. They never saw each other again after the Pirate King attended his wedding and both lived in half misery until death mercifully ended their suffering at a relatively old age.

 _But_ they had kept up the bloodline and Jack's grandfather had his own chance with his Tutela, only that Norrington brushed him off. Ever a stubborn Teague, Jack's grandfather chased after his Tutela for years until he met Jack's Grandmama and fell in love. He stopped chasing, figuring he was really not wanted, only for Norrington to start chasing _him_. With the future Keeper of the Code already growing in his wife's belly, the Curatrix could no longer indulge in such games and kept as far away from his Tutela as he could. Little Edward was born, then two years later so was Johnathon when finally both Norrington and Teague died in a chase through the storm that, now that Jack thought about it, reminded him an awful lot of the one he had led his own Norrington Tutela out on.

And so one Lawrence Norrington and one Fitzwilliam Norrington II - future Admiral and Earl of Dalton respectively - and one Edward Teague and one Johnathon Teague were all left fatherless with only their mothers and other distant relatives to care for them and raise them into the men that they were to become. Uncle Jack (not nearly as powerful as his older brother, let alone the nephew he was to get many years later, with a wingspan of only six feet two inches fully grown) met his Tutela when he was sixteen and, through some miracle, Fitzwilliam II didn't hate him on sight. They talked, came to an agreement to keep out of each other's way unless necessary and that they'll try again in the next life, where they hope they won't be born on so opposing sides.

Lawrence and Edward, in contrast, could not help but clash and gravitate to each other no matter how hard they tried. It was one of those truly perfect matches that gods occasionally made. Curatrix and Tutela, so fundamentally similar yet just as fundamentally completely different. It was not something that could be explained. They were rivals and yet they had, up until one point, been _lovers_ , too, if the rumors and the subtext in his Da's stories about his Tutela were anything to go by. But then something happened that his Da did not like talking about and that his crew from those days refused to discuss, but the end result had been that the bond was broken, by Lawrence, and now both of them were still suffering the bond and love lost between them. At some point, Jack was born, then James was born, their paths crossed when Lawrence kidnapped Jack and Edward came to save him and bla bla bla. Long story short, Jack and James were currently the last Teague-Norrington Curatrix-Tutela pairing and they seem to be going good - the best, so far, in comparison to their predecessors. They had all managed to severe their bonds by thirty and yet Jack and James were still kicking.

But there had been that close call with the beastie where not even Jack knows what had preserved their bond, and then the Locker. Jack shuddered at the thought of the Kraken, the Locker and their master. Davy Jones can't enter Shipwreck Cove. His Da never registered him as welcome and Jack sure as hell never will.

Speaking of the Cove, the Island itself should be well within view by now, which means Jack will be needed at the helm soon. But he felt so _lazy_ right now. Most of his charges within reach, his ship rocking him into further relaxation, the Cove - his childhood home and _safety_ \- but a few hours of sailing away and his Tutela not a mile away-

Jack's eyes snapped open and he all but leaped out of bed, his feet tangling in the sheets. He face-planted into the opposite wall of the captain's cabin with a groan, hoping it won't bruise, but quickly pushing those thoughts away as he quickly dressed in his usual 'Captain Jack Sparrow' way - although he _did_ add a black bandanna-like piece of cloth, tying it around his right bicep so that the golden crossed cutlasses were on full, proud display (there were dozens of pirates in the Cove by now that he owes money and he will need the protection) - before climbing up onto the main deck just as Marty called "Sail, ho!" As Jack had expected, it was indeed the Empress, where Jack had last left James Norrington and Elizabeth Swann both, just before sweeping Bill off and bringing him back to the Pearl with that strange almost-teleportation thing. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Sao Feng in all that commotion. He would have worried if he hadn't seen how close they were to the Island. They were well within Shipwreck Island's jurisdiction and it was strictly against the Code for someone to attack a Pirate Lord within twenty legions of the island. The Keeper was not merciful to those fools who break this rule, nor any other rule of the Code. And the Singapore Pirate Lord would not dare challenge Jack where he, as the Keeper's Heir, was _obliged_ to take him down if he acted inappropriately.

For all that he preferred not to fight, Jack still had way too much Teague blood in his veins to let such disrespect be shown to him and his family's legacy.

"Capti'n!" Marty called from the rigging. "They're signaling fer parlay!"

"Accepted!" Jack called back and the little man nodded, took hold of one of the lines and jumped down, the right signal going up as he safely made it down to the deck.

"Be that wise?" Barbossa asked as they both stood together, the Pearl coming to a stop to wait for the limping Empress. "Sao Feng has it out fer you b'cause of an imagined slight. And he's shown himself as not being the wisest and most reasonable individuals. His track record so far isn't admirable."

"Maybe not, but he's a Pirate Lord and we're within reach of Shipwreck Cove. There is no ignoring the Code here, Hector. Not if I don't want to look like a hypocrite." Barbossa had to concede to that and they fell into silence as they watched the eastern-styled ship come to a stop beside them.

"Permission to board, Captain?" They both relaxed at the familiar voice although they shared a glance at the implications of Elizabeth being seemingly in the lead.

"Seems we have a new Pirate Lord," Jack commented with a grin, to which the older man just snorted. "As long as you're not here to mutiny, you're always welcome, Lizzy!" He called back to the ex-Governor's-daughter as said ex Governor came up on deck himself to see with his own two eyes that his daughter was alive, well and safe. Soon enough, a plank was placed between the two ships and Jack delighted when he saw none other than his Jamie helping an elaborately dressed Elizabeth to cross the plank. She greeted him with an uncertain smile so unusual for the proud, confident girl that Jack could not help but step forward with arms wide open as if to hug her, only to have Hector tug him back with a glower in Norrongton's direction. Said ex Admiral had a hand on his beautiful sword, as if poised for a fight.

"Elizabeth!" Weatherby, though, got around James almost expertly and father and daughter had another reunion under the bewildered gaze of one James Norrington. "Thank god you're all right!"

"Governor Swann, I thought you had returned to England?"

"He returned from the Locker is where he returned from." Barbossa growled at the Navy man, who in turn glared daggers but then got a confused look on his face.

"'Twasn't the Locker, mate. That's where _I_ was. He were in the limbo between life and death." Jack corrected automatically, waving a finger in Barbossa's face while discreetly taking stock of James' condition. He seemed to be just right and dandy, so that was a plus.

"Same difference." The older Pirate Lord insisted with a scowl.

"That doesn't even make any sense!"

"Sure it does, love." Sparrow told Norrington and opened his mouth to explain the phrase but a new voice interrupted him.

"Wot's all this ruckus 'bout? Can't a bloke get some rest in peace?" Bill Turner complained as he rubbed his head and climbed onto the deck, a little disoriented and confused at finding himself on a familiar black ship and he himself free of sea creatures. He took in the scene of Jack and Barbossa standing once again as an - unholy - united front against James Norrington and Elizabeth and Weatherby Swann, although the latter two seemed more focused on hugging than on the confrontation going on.

"I think you've rested in peace long enough, Turner. Thirteen years not 'nough for ye?" Barbossa mocked his wording and Bill glared at him, only to decide to ignore him altogether and instead he lumbered up to Jack and hugged him. James, in the meantime, had drawn his sword upon seeing the man that had almost killed him and Elizabeth, who looked surprised and delighted at his curse-free appearance.

"Bootstrap! You're here! You're alright!" Bill was surprised when he found himself with an armful of his future daughter in law, confused as to how to react. He was still holding on to his Captain and friend, who looked far too amused about this whole situation. "Will's going to be so happy!" Realization dawned on her and her eyes narrowed angrily. " _Jack_ ," he fairly growled. "Where _is_ Will?"

"Still cooling his head in the brig?" Bill asked nonchalantly, having already been told by Marty just what had been going on. He look at Jack incredulously for a moment. "The Locker, Jack? Really?"

"What can I say?" Said man grinned. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Why would Turner be in the brig?" James asked this time, still not putting his weapon away. He still didn't know what to think about all of this. He found himself for the second time in his life siding with pirates and his career left behind in shambles. He at least still had his item this time around. He hoped Theodore and Philip will be alright until they find some way to get rid of Beckett.

"He was leaving a trail for Beckett to follow and he attacked Jack last night so we had to lock him up or risk more trouble from 'im." Gibbs answered with a glower and a glare sent in the direction that would eventually lead to the brig. Elizabeth's eyes darkened and she nodded firmly.

"Good. Maybe he can stop acting like an ass now."

"Elizabeth!" Governor and Admiral (both former by now but who was keeping track, aye?) screeched in scandalized shock while Bootstrap and Jack just laughed.

"Dear god, she's more pirate than William!" The until recently cursed man crowed in delight and Elizabeth smirked in pleasure. Bootstrap, Barbossa and Sparrow immediately recognized the trinket wrapped around her neck and frowned in thought. "A lot more pirate."

"Welcome to the Brethren Court, luv." Jack grinned at her as he extracted himself from the hug.

"She almost challenges Mistress Teague's status as the youngest elected Pirate Lord." Tai Huang said with pride in his new mistress. Hector, Gibbs and Bootstrap, however, snorted and ruined his fun. Tai Huang glared at them, offended. "What?"

"That record be long since defeated." Gibbs started.

"By a Pirate Lord given power at mere eighteen summers." Barbossa continued on with a mocking grin sent Tai Huang's way.

"The fourth Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, to be precise." More than one jaw unhinged as they turned to look at Jack, who didn't see what the big deal was.

"What?"

"The family tradition continues," Joshamee said cryptically with a grin, receiving a warning glare from his Captain, which turned his grin sheepish. Jack just shook his head and sighed, turning the conversation down ore serious topics. He turned to Tai Huang, who returned his gaze defiantly, though some fear flickered in his eyes. Good. No more funny business on that front. The less he had to deal with, the better.

"Anyone on your ship ever done the Crossing?"

Tai Huang thought about it before nodding. "The current pilot, one of the midshipman and myself have accompanied Lord Sao Feng before."

"Only once?" Jack frowned at the nod he got. "You might as well not have made the Crossing at all. Typical of Sao Feng not to care to teach his crew how to get in to the only safe haven for pirates in the world."

"The first Brethren Court made the Crossing just fine, without ever knowing what to expect."

"The first Brethren Court were all exceptional pirates who'd done crazy shit we can only dream of. Well, _you_ , anyway. I've seen my fair share of crazies already." Jack waved him off. "Fine. We'll just haul you through. Not that I haven't done that before. Usual procedure would be to signal the Cove for assistance and a Cove habitant would come out to your ship to guide you through, but we don't have the time and we're still in deep water. The Kraken may be gone, but the Dutchman can still spring up to surprise us."

"Will hauling be safe?" Norrington, eying the protruding rocks splashed over by turbulent waves of sea water some distance away, asked warily. "Why not just let us board and we _all_ enter as one group."

"One, never trust a man from Singapore, luv." Jack said, counting off if his fingers. Barbossa nodded behind him, for there was no truer statement. Said men weren't even offended. It was the truth, after all. "Two, no offense, but both you and Lizzy tried to kill me already - and you both kind of succeeded, so I'd really rather not have a repeat experience." Guilt flashed in pretty green eyes before it was masked to the best of Norrington's ability. Jack had still seen, though, he can still sense it, but they were not here to discus that. There will be a time and place for that conversation later. "Three, there's already two captains on this ship. Between you and Lizzy, that would make four and it would be confusing for the more common-minded crew as to whose orders to follow. Four, there are already two _Pirate Lords_ on this ship. If the Flying Dutchman were to come now, Jones would devastate the Brethren Court. Just _one_ missing is enough to render the rest all be useless and powerless. And _five_ , I am still recovering from bringing two men back from the brink of death. I need some space and a crowded ship is not gonna be of much help. So just sit tight on your little boat while we haul you through. And don't even _think_ about suggesting that I don't know how to haul a ship through. I grew up in these waters, mate. I could stir us through blind and deaf. Probably with a hand tied behind me back."

"Ya did, that once, Capt'n. Remember?" Ragetti called from a little further away and he, Jack, Barbossa, Bill and Pintel all shuddered, recalling _that_ particular night storm and the explosion that had rendered them all with hearing problems for the next couple of days. Jack's arm hadn't been tied behind his back, though, but in a makeshift sling, a nasty wound going over his biceps and triceps from where a cutlass had nearly taken the limb off completely. Most of the crew had been in just as bad of a shape. Not a pretty night, not at all.

"Right, anyway ... Prepare the ropes! Be swift about it men! The enemy is still hot on our tails."

"Jack," Elizabeth called even as she moved out of the way of the scrambling pirates. "I think it would be best if James stayed here." At both their incredulous stares, she frowned and put her hands on her hips like only women do when they're making a point that broke no argument. "They hate him and would probably get him killed the first chance they got. I'm new so they won't be afraid to go behind my back. He's safer here."

"You want to put a pirate hunter among pirates that may or may not hate his guts?" Barbossa arched a challenging eyebrow at the ex Navy man, who only glared at him, although it was clear he agreed no more to Elizabeth's idea than Barbossa did. "He'll be dead in minutes, no matter which ship he's on."

Norrington opened his eyes to protest and defend himself but Jack beat him to it. "He's about to enter the den of pirates and he's obviously not afraid, despite who he is. That's somethin' to admire, aye?" Hector had to concede to that and Jack nodded, satisfied. "He'll be safer with us and ye know it. Who would dare attack someone from Captain Jack Sparrow's crew, savvy?" He grinned at James, who only snorted with a roll of his eyes.

"You're really full of yourself, Sparrow. It's as if you think the world revolves around you."

"Ye'd be surprised how close to de truth ye are, James Norrington." Tia Dalma drawled with a lazy, mysterious smirk, startling Norrington from where she had practically snuck up on him from behind. "Dere be more ta Witty Jack dan ye know."

"And that more might just be the only thing keepin' ye alive in there, so don't screw it up." Barbossa groused before whirling around and continuing where Jack left off, barking orders left and right, preparing both ships for the Crossing. Jack shrugged when the two younger ones looked at him quizzically before heading for the helm. He might as well take it now, they were close enough to Shipwreck Island for his expert knowledge of the layout to be of great use even before the dreaded Crossing.

Exchanging an uneasy look, Elizabeth and James parted ways, the woman going back to her new ship while James went to Gibbs to see if there was anything he could do.

Once the two ships entered the Devil's Throat, though, they were glad Jack had let neither of them to participate.

The Devil's Throat swallowed them whole before the sun started setting.


	31. Chapter 31

Finding out that pirates were far more organized than the world had given them credit for was a surprise to James. They were practically a proper society, what with their laws (the Code _must_ be kept to, or there _will_ be consequences), their lords (nine Pirate Lords, represented by their Nine Pieces of Eight, each one of them ruling a sea by themselves), their king (the Pirate King, declared by popular vote) and their supreme judge (Keeper of the Code, a man that practically held more power than even the Pirate King) that lived _outside_ of any society James had lived in up until that very point in time.

Finding out that there was an impenetrable fortress hiding in an uncharted island that only few knew how to access but was in all actuality a pirate safe haven and somewhat sanctuary was just as, if not more surprising as the society thing. Shipwreck Cove was a town made within the biggest cavern James had ever seen in his life and just as dangerous inside as it was outside, around the island. It resembled every port town he had ever visited and was at the same time so completely different that James felt like that first time he had been in India and was confronted by something strange. For one, there was a giant Citadel made out of various wrecked ships' parts, dominating the center of the Cove with only one way to get to it. Sparrow said it was built on the biggest deadly rock formation in the Cove so other ships won't ever be brought to the same fate. Interestingly enough, the building was not actually at sea level and was actually well out of reach of any ships that might ram into it. The rocks beneath it were as sturdy as they had ever been and James had wondered just what sort of mineral they were.

The houses in the Cove, though, were no less _different_ than the ones James was used to. Sure, there were the usual one to two story houses, both personal dwellings and public houses like inns and restaurants and taverns and pubs, but there were also buildings twice as big as those. Three, four and even that big one five story building dominated to Cove, proving it was meant more to house hundreds of people at a time than just some random settlement. No building or structure was as big as the Citadel and the second biggest ones were the three lighthouses placed strategically around the Cove to prevent any more shipwrecks. But the other buildings were also magnificent in their own way.

Interestingly enough, the pirates had invested in several surprising but useful buildings. They had a bank - _bank!_ \- a _school_ of sorts (he wondered what they taught kids there), a _hospital_ , a market, dozens of smithies and blacksmiths, some temples or sanctuaries or whatever they were meant for shamans and priests and the like to work in. He had seen even a _library_ \- it was the only building that could rival the Citadel, the five story one. James couldn't help but imagine all of the written treasures hidden in there. The Town of Shipwreck was quite possibly one of the biggest cities James had ever seen and the placing of houses and the urbanization was also pretty weird. There were houses _everywhere_ around the Cove, even in places not so easily reachable, like on the terraces of the Cove's walls, some barely visible from the ground up. There was an entire network of rope bridges overhead, high in the air, to allow easier communication between all sides of the Cove.

Then there were the Watch and their watch towers. Sparrow had said they were especially picked men and women with patience and great eyesight, not to mention lungs as they had to yell orders, warnings and the such. They were all dressed in red wests, accompanied by some strange black piece of cloth or clothing that has a white representation of two crossed cutlasses outlined by golden string on it that seems to be present on many a person's attires. Most of the pirates were uneasy and squirming whenever they caught glimpse of someone wearing that symbol and even Gibbs, Barbossa and Bootstrap were no exceptions.

"That's the symbol of the Keeper and 'is family," Gibbs had explained when they all docked and followed Sparrow, who seemed completely at home in the center of attention various saluting Cove-inhabitants were sending their way. Or was it just _his_ way? James couldn't tell. "All who serve him and only him are wearing it. They are the Keeper's men and they are the most fearsome pirates in the sea. Ev'ry single one of 'em has seen hell an' had decided to stay at the Keeper's side. I guess you could say they are his elite soldiers. They follow the Code and spread his judgment when Pirate Lords don't do it themselves but his direct presence isn't needed."

"Jack has the same symbol." Will, released from the brig with a warning to behave or else he will be imprisoned in the Cove's jail, commented, still bitter from his stay in the brig and not having received a chance to speak with his father.

"Aye, 'e does." Barbossa had agreed, going after the youngest Pirate Lord ever. "So ye better not go an' do somethin' stupid ta endanger 'im here. Not if ya want us all to live." And that had been the end of conversation until they entered the Citadel, joined by two blond, Russian seeming men that flanked both of Sparrow's sides as they entered the loud, arguing-pirate filled room. Sparrow and Barbossa placed their swords in a giant globe of the world and Elizabeth, not sure of the proceedings but willing to trust them, followed suit. Sparrow's entrance had had an interesting result in stopping all noise, all attention turned on him, his fellow supposed to be dead Pirate Lord buddy and the new Pirate Lord that had just claimed the South China Sea as her own. Then there had been an uproar, all voices melding together until nothing was distinguishable of what was being said.

A single yelled demand for silence from Sparrow was enough to quiet them all. Their eyes landed on the black bandanna wrapped around his bicep, with the fully gold crossed cutlasses in full view, proudly presented to the world, and every single pirate in the room turned white as ash and deathly serious.

The meeting went as well as one could expect from a room full of rum-soaked pirates who only wanted to save their own skins. No one but Elizabeth seemed keen on fighting Beckett and his armada, but a few seemed interested in Barbossa's plan to free the sea goddess Calypso from her bonds and let _her_ take care of their enemies. That sure did cause an uproar that nearly cost Barbossa his tongue and his life. Strange how his renewed alliance with Jack saved him. Stranger still how everyone forced themselves to calm whenever Sparrow would glare at them or demand silence.

Speaking of Sparrow, he seemed to be for neither idea and yet he supported both. He had good arguments, unlike the rest of the pirates, as to why they should or shouldn't consider either course of action and actually seemed to be somewhere in between. Almost neutral. But then he agreed that fighting (to run away) was their only option to survive and Barbossa and he ended up in a little tiff - as was normal for them - that somehow led to the reciting of the Code on both sides - Sparrow, both surprisingly and not at all, seemed to know it far better and in more detail - and _that_ led to Barbossa calling on the Keeper of the Code, Edward Teague himself.

James could not help himself but stare at the man who had been his father's Curatrix, taking in all the changes and finding himself surprised with how little Teague had changed in comparison to his father. Yes, he had aged, but he looked almost ten years younger than one Lawrence Norrington and that was saying something, since James had seen his father last just before being stationed in Port Royal. He still had the same confidence, the same overwhelming presence, the same sharpness in his eyes and the same red coat. What came as a surprise, though, was how similar he and Sparrow looked in appearance and how close they stood. Their interaction seemed tense to an unobservant eye but all knew that, if nothing else, they were mentor and protégé, though something in Norrington doubted it was that simple. There was a look in Teague's eyes that spoke of sleepless night, constant worry and something not unlike mourning while Sparrow's eyes shined with what could only be affection, although he had seemed a bit weary of the initial reaction his presence might cause.

Sparrow then called for a vote for a Pirate King and then gave his to Elizabeth, which only caused even more of an uproar of incredulity until Teague purposefully snapped a string on his guitar and everyone quieted. With the final declaration from Elizabeth and Sri Sumbhajee that they will go to war in the morning, the meeting was over and Jack seemed to be in the middle of pulling a disappearing act when Elizabeth rushed after him and James followed her, his target none other than Teague.

"Jack!" The young woman called, catching the younger eccentric pirate Captain's attention and stopping them both in their tracks. Teague didn't seem the happiest that their private reunion was going to be delayed but he didn't say anything. Instead, his eyes seemed to be flicking between Sparrow and James himself, a strange something flashing across his eyes every now and then. "Jack, why did you vote for me?"

"'Cause ye were the only choice, Lizzy. If any of those fools had it their way, we'd be stuck here forever. Beckett is a stubborn bastard and Jones, if he got wind of me still living, would wait out there until I die and my bones rot completely into the ground."

"But they would have voted for _you_ ," Elizabeth insisted, having seen that as much as they would like to deny it or had their own issues with him, they had known Jack Sparrow was possibly their best bet and their best choice. But they didn't, voting instead for themselves and they going into an uproar when some upstart would be pirate was chosen for Pirate King by the very person _they_ would have placed in the same position.

"Ah, but they couldn't, even if any of 'em wanted to." Jack explained patiently with a small grin. The two ex residents of Port Royal frowned in confusion while Teague suddenly looked like a proud peacock. Or parent.

"But why?" Swann insisted, not understanding at all. Yes, she got what she wanted, a fight with Beckett, but she herself would have voted for Jack if it had not seemed like he was going to do something ... _neutral_. He had seemed so uninterested in what was going on, joking around and babbling about cuttlefish and just being his confusing, eccentric self. He seemed both for it all and against it all, walking around unafraid of the weapons and glares pointed his way. Then again, he had the same symbol as the others did on his bicep, claiming he worked for the Keeper. But his was different, when you really looked at it. Finer cloth - silk, she was sure - and actual gold string weaving the two cutlasses, not just the edges but the _whole_ image. The others had white. Jack's was gold.

"Well, for one, I can't be a candidate. Goes against the Code, page 1-"

"Jack, stop rambling and just tell me why you can't be a candidate, short and simple." She snapped, glaring, uninterested in his prattling. Teague seemed to bristle on the younger man's behalf - he was obviously the more temperamental of the two - but Jack just nodded and flourished an over-exaggerated bow before answering.

"You see, your highness, I am already entitled to a title and position of power. I even currently posses one, so it would be best if ye get your records straight, because Pirate King or not, the Keeper and his Heir are well above you in the hierarchy of things." There was an edge of a warning in Sparrow's voice, one that made Elizabeth take an involuntary step back when black eyes flashed up to meet hers. "You'd do well t' remember that." Then all seriousness was gone and he wiggled his eyebrows at Norrington. "What can I do you for?"

James eyed him warily before nodding respectfully to the Keeper, wondering why Sparrow of all people would be the Keeper's Heir when he _knew_ Teague had a son. "Actually, I was hoping to speak with Captain Teague, shortly, in private, if that is alright?" Anyone who knew him in Port Royal or in the Navy would be surprised with how respectful he was being to a pirate, but Edward Teague was not just any pirate. He was not only his father's (ex) Curatrix, but he was also his _own_ Curatrix's father. If any pirate deserved any respect from James, Teague was it. "I think there might be a few topics to discuss."

Teague studied him for a moment before nodding his head. He turned to Sparrow, whose gaze was flicking between the two of them. "Go say hi to your uncle and aunts. They'd been worrying for ye ever since we learned about the Kraken thing." It was a good thing he wasn't looking at the new Pirate King and her once suitor, or else he would have seen their flinch and the guilty expressions that they wore on their faces at the mention of that horrible day. Jack, however grimaced.

"I have nothing against Uncle Jack, but I don't think I'll survive good ol' Grandmama. She might just take my head off."

" _Go_ , Jackie," Teague huffed in amusement and watched as Jack reluctantly did as he was told, probably already thinking of ten different ways of getting sidetracked before he actually has to do it. Teague rolled his eyes when his Heir practically perked up when two pirates from the Cove approached him with matters meant to be dealt with by only the Keeper or the Heir. No matter. Jack can visit later. Teague had him for himself as soon as he finishes with the young ones. Speaking of ... "You wished to speak with me?" He asked, arching an eyebrow at his Tutela's son.

"Isn't there ... any more private a setting that we could have this conversation at?" Norrington asked, almost fidgeting under the older man's intelligent gaze. His eyes reminded him of his Jack's, all liquid intelligence and dark as the night, nearly black. Strangely enough, they also reminded him of _Sparrow's_ eyes, too, which was rather ridiculous.

Edward regarded Lawrence's son carefully. "I'm afraid not. Even if we were to go to my office or some other room, I'd have to take some of my men with me. Please don't take offense, but I'd rather not saddle Jackie with the burden of the Keeper's responsibilities and duties just yet."

"I know it may not hold much weight, but I give you my word that I mean you, nor anyone else present, no harm." The ex-Admiral assured. "I only wish to talk about my Curatrix, sir. I figured if no one else, then his father will give me the best information regarding his whereabouts and where I might meet him."

Elizabeth started at hearing that, turning wide eyes at James. "Your mysterious Curatrix that you never talk about is the legendary Captain Teague's son? Why did you never tell me? And how?"

"I didn't tell you precisely for that reason." James replied in a monotone, weary voice. "No offense, Elizabeth, but you weren't always so good at keeping your mouth shut." She huffed at him, raising her nose in the air and glaring at him. "Besides, that's a rather private thing. Curatrix and Tutela aren't shared with just anyone."

"Jack told me something similar, once. Or at least along those lines."

"Sounds 'bout right." The old pirate chuckled fondly. "Jackie loves 'is Tutela in every way possible and they had only met once. As kids. In not so spectacular circumstances." The man in the elaborate red coat shook his head. "And my son is his guardian because his father is ... _was_ my charge." James noticed the correction and the sadness that flashed on Teague's face at it and felt bad. So not only his father suffered the breaking of the bond. But wheres Lawrence had decided to waste away in self pity on land, Teague still looked somewhat young, weathered down by age and sea winds, yes, but still far better off than Lawrence. And he had probably spent the years since then nurturing the son he was ready to fight his Tutela for.

"Wow." Elizabeth breathed in shock. "Does that ... Does that happen often? The bond being inherited from father to son?"

Teague shot her a look at that. "It's not inheritable, first off, since you usually don't even know whether your kid will be a Curatrix at all. Curatrix are born at random in bloodlines that had at one point been mingled with an angel's essence. But there _are_ rare cases, when two families are intertwined and the Curatrix from one family have Tutela in the other. Those families are usually ones connected a long time ago and remained connected ever since. The members of these families rarely ever have to actually _search_ for their bondmates. You'd usually just have to look in the other family to find them."

James already knew this. As had been stated many times before, he had researched Curatrix to the best of his abilities and while there were still a lot more things to learn about - Sparrow bringing two men practically back from the dead was something unheard of - he probably knew as much as any other human did about their winged companions. Which is why he was getting a bit impatient to ask his questions. Still, he didn't want to insult the Keeper. From what Sparrow had said, he was actually the most influential figure among pirates and Sparrow right behind him as the next Keeper.

"What's that look for, boy?" James started at the unexpected question, blinking stupidly at Teague as he realized that his face must have shown some mixture of emotions regarding his thoughts on _Sparrow_ being the Heir when Captain Teague had a son of his own.

"I ... Nothing," he decided was the best answer, shaking his head. "I was just wondering if you knew where Jack was?"

The woman by his side looked at him strangely while Edward smirked. "Your Curatrix's name is _Jack_?"

"Jack E. Teague," both men said, Teague with an enormous amount of pride in his voice. Elizabeth snorted.

"So there's _two_ Jack's in your life and both are pirates?" She shook her head in sympathy. "So where's he now? I'd also like to meet him."

"Well," Teague's face suddenly became blank, although there was a light of anger in his eyes as he regarded the two humans, his wings unfurling to their relatively impressive - nothing was really all that impressive after seeing Jack Sparrow's wings - wing span of nine feet three inches, voice going cold as he stared the two of them down. "My son just recently returned from the realm of the dead after being dragged to Davy Jones Locker because, if my sources are correct, his supposed _friends_ and crew members left him to _die_ so they could save their own asses. And according to the Code, bringing threat, harm or death on the Keeper or his Heir is a clear and indisputable death penalty. Just be lucky my son is fond of you both and that one of you is his Tutela while the other he took on as a protectee." He let his words register before snorting in a mocking way. "If that will be all," he drawled as he turned on his heel and followed after where Sparrow had been dragged away to deal whatever Cove or Heir business the Keeper's men had needed his help on, leaving two shell-shocked people in his wake.

Elizabeth recovered first and shook her head, trying to reel her thoughts and shock in as she looked worriedly up to the ex Admiral. "James?" There was no response but then the man slumped like a puppet with its strings cut and she tried to catch or steady him but he still fell to the floor in an undignified pile of horrified former Commodore. "James!"

"What have I done?"


	32. Chapter 32

James could not get over his shock even after returning to the Black Pearl - perhaps it was not just irony that named Sparrow's beloved ship after his unusual gem - with Elizabeth's help, feeling like the world was tittering on the edge of a knife and all he knew about it was a lie. He wasn't even sure if this was reality, a dream come true, a nightmare or somewhere in between.

He had found his guardian, yes, but he had never thought it to be one infamous, notorious Captain Jack Sparrow out of all the people in the world. And the one man he had stolen from, stolen the very thing that could have saved him and left him to die at the cruelty of Jones and his pet Kraken. No wonder he had felt so empty since Sparrow's death. No wonder that the sight of Jones filled him with rage and hatred. No wonder he had insisted to Beckett that the beast from the deep be slaughtered.

No wonder he had felt guilt at the sight of Sparrow.

No wonder he had always been drawn and intrigued by him.

Dear gods, he was his _Curatrix_. How was it possible that he had never connected the dots? But, then again, Sparrow had grown up and changed, just as James had. And not only that, but his wings had changed, too. James had always known they would grow to be massive, but he had never thought that they would change color. That was _unheard_ of. He had read all the texts on Curatrix available to him - which is a lot, since he came from a rather influential family - and yet that phenomenon had never been written in any of those books. Did it have something to do with Sparrow's wing span? That in itself was a mystery as well. His wings were almost twice as big as the first teen feet record. The size of wings had very little to do whether a Curatrix can fly or not. They were usually just a physically-astral - or something like that - extension of a Curatrix's very soul. Or rather, the angel essence they had within. Size inly had to do with the power of a Curatrix and James already _knew_ his Curatrix was powerful.

He still remembered his conversation with that gypsy woman. She had told him his Jack carried a big burden, a great responsibility on his shoulders. Seeing as he'd somehow freed Mr Turner from the curse of the Flying Dutchman, he guessed curse breaker was a very accurate description of the man.

But that didn't explain how the Jack he knew became Captain Jack Sparrow. Jack had hated piracy when they were children and had ran away from home to escape it. Now he was one of the most notorious pirates out there, although mostly because of his brilliance, what with him almost never needing to kill someone in order to get what he wants. He was far too efficient for most people's liking and so they hated him. The price on his head is an impressive one for the list of silly crimes he's been accused of. And that drew him up short, too. Jack may have ended up a pirate, despite his distaste for it, but he had never become a violent, cruel one. If anything, Jack was probably the nicest, most romanticized pirate out there. He lied and he stole but he never killed unless it was absolutely necessary. He liked sailing and treasure hunting instead of raping and torturing, unlike so many other pirates out there. And he might be drunk most of the time, but he never abused his crew, even when he later gets a splitting headache when he wakes up with a hangover. Sparrow was all that was described for a pirate to be in those silly tales ladies like to read about charming rouges of the sea that will swoop in and swipe them off their feet before they can sail off to the sunset.

Something tells James that his Curatrix would not even be a pirate if not for the brand on his forearm. That might have something to do with the conversations he'd overheard about the Black Pearl's brief encounter with Beckett's Endeavor.

He was lying in the hammock provided for him and he couldn't sleep. His mind refused to shut down long enough for him to get even a wink of rest and he knew he deserved it. _God_ , he had sent his own Curatrix to death when he had stolen the heart of Davy Jones from Sparrow's jar of dirt. How was their bond still intact at all? He had had a direct hand in Jack's death! It shouldn't be at all possible for the bond to hold strong like it still was. James' pearl was no longer cracked - probably from the time that Sparrow had returned from the Locker - and he could feel the presence of his guardian perfectly well. But that did not exclude the fact that it should _not be possible_. For a year, their bond had been practically broken and yet now ...

Norrington sighed, realizing there will be no sleep for him tonight, no matter how important tomorrow might be. At least not until he spoke with Jack and he might not have the opportunity to do that, seeing as the older man was probably either still with his father or resting. A flare of jealousy overwhelmed him when the thought occurred to him where _else_ Jack might be. He knew he had no right to feel jealous of some random wench, if that was where Jack was spending his night, especially since he had never shown the man any sort of interest or even _friendliness_. Sparrow was a free man and James had never even tried to get to know him beyond what he already knew about him - that he was a pirate and wanted by the crown. He didn't know anything else and not for a lack of opportunity. Sparrow had given him several glaring ones and he had mucked them all up rather spectacularly. That night on the Dauntless, the night in the Pearl's great cabin and just recently, until they had entered the Cove and the Citadel. He could have asked questions, like Elizabeth and Turner always did and _someone_ would have answered. If not Jack then Gibbs or Barbossa or maybe even that Tia Dalma might have let something slip. He'd had so many chances and he had wasted them all.

Now, when morning comes and they go to war, James might die or Jack might die and they would have never established a real connection. James didn't want to live or die with that. Not that he could do much about it. He had had his chance to learn all there is about Jack Sparrow and he had never bothered to ask. Why did he call himself Sparrow? How did he get the Black Pearl? Why did he love a ship so much as to sell his soul for it? What is the depth of his connection with Beckett? Why had his wings changed color?

Why hadn't he ever come back for his Tutela when James had waited and always been ready?

He had so much questions and almost no time at all to get satisfactory answers and it was all by his own design. He had not _meant_ to create this rift between them. He had always pitied and partially scorned his father for the way he was suffering from his own mistakes that he'd made upon breaking his bond with Captain Teague, but it would seem James was no better, despite all the promises he had made himself that he'll never repeat his father's mistake. Lawrence had broken the bond and suffered for it. James had almost done the same and it was only through a miracle that it still stood. Probably because of Jack's doing.

And yet that did not change the fact that, should they die tomorrow, they'll die as little more than utter strangers.

Sighing again, James slowly sat up and climbed bare foot up onto the main deck, figuring a little fresh air and privacy will give him a better chance of falling asleep. If not, then at least he can marvel at the strange beauty of Shipwreck Cove, all lit up and resembling a city from a fairytale rather than a pirate settlement. It was intriguing to find out not all pirates had been uneducated people or criminals running from the law. James had overheard Sparrow and Barbossa explaining to an intrigued Elizabeth how the first Brethren Court had brought many condemned scientists to the Cove and let them live and study there, as long as they from time to time innovated something for the Cove. That was how Shipwreck Cove got its own sewer system, running water - that's not something you find in even the best developed cities in Europe! - the ancient Egyptian trick with mirrors and crystals to light up the entire Cove with one or two rays of light, the rope bridges up high, the Cove's internal agriculture, tamed sea turtles and pelicans and occasionally dolphins and seals that they use as a mailing system and so much more. Jack obviously knew more about it all but he had been drawn into conversation with some random Cove dweller, leaving Barbossa to answer most of Elizabeth's inquiries to the best of his abilities, but the amount of his knowledge and the expanse of his memory couldn't match Jack's, who apparently had a perfect - and rather scary - memory and could recall and recite anything he's ever learned in his life in seconds. Anyways, the Cove was a marvel of many different cultures, societies and intellectuals coming together in one place and James wondered what other secrets it housed. He itched to go to the library and research some more on Curatrix, but he knew he should be resting. If he survives tomorrow, he will go picking through the books and possibly find out more about his strange Curatrix and their even stranger bond, represented in their unique gem.

"You should be restin', love, as we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." James didn't even start at the drawled pseudo greeting, feeling himself perk up - like always; how had he never noticed his reaction before? - at the familiar voice and the almost soundless gate as Jack came closer to where he was standing on the quarterdeck by the railing. "It won't be easy and you'll need to be at your best if you want to survive "

"And yet you're only pestering me, Jack, when you yourself are not doing the same." He retorted immediately, smiling ruffly in his Curatrix's direction. Had Teague told his son that James knew just _who_ Jack actually was or had he left it for them to deal with between themselves. He wasn't sure which option he would prefer at this point.

The Captain just shrugged, leaning beside James on the railing with his hip to it, facing the taller man with most of his body. "'M a Curatrix. Sleep won't affect my focus as much as it would a human's and it would be a shame for such a fine sailor to die because he confused his port from his starboard."

Norrington snorted, turning so he could face Jack fully. Green eyes immediately settled on black ones, but his breathing hitched when something small and black caught a little light and reflected it in a perfect round shape. Without thought and with wonder overtaking his features, James reached out towards Sparrow's face and caught the black pearl woven into hair there before Sparrow could flinch back. The black pearl, through means that could only be magical, started glowing an interesting golden glow and filled Norrington with warmth and energy. He tore his eyes away from the gem to its owner when Jack gasped. He for a moment felt fear that he had somehow caused Sparrow pain, but the Curatrix's eyes were blown wide and hazy with something not unlike lust and longing. Gulping, Norrington ran a calloused finger tip over its surface again, watching Sparrow shudder and release his wings unintentionally as he took out his own black pearl and put the two next to each other.

A perfect match. Twin black pearls. The conformation he hadn't really needed. He had known the truth the second it was pointed out to him. His soul had known all along but his brain had not wanted to accept it in the beginning. But now ... Now he needed no proof.

"Did you know?" He asks in barely a whisper before snorting at his own stupid question. "Of course you bloody knew. Since when?"

"I don't know whatcha talkin' 'bout." The pirate fired back immediately, as though this were some joking matter. Norrington grabbed the pirate by the shoulder, intent on bringing him closer, only to yelp when something _pinched his hand_. Like, really hard. He almost thought it had pierced his skin but it let go as soon as he pulled away with a yelp. "Right. Sorry 'bout that."

"What _was_ that?" He snapped but let Jack fret over his hand. There was a patch of red skin that will no doubt have a lovely bruise in the morning and he could just feel a headache coming on. But he didn't pull away from Jack. If anything, he stepped closer, finding comfort in the older male's presence. Jack paused in what he was doing but did not look up as he answered.

"One of Tia's crabs took a shine to me and is now refusing to leave me be. That's what happens when a Curatrix doesn't reign in their charms. I guess it's my new pet. I should probably name it. Damn, this will leave a mark." James watched as the pirate absently ran a calloused thumb over the smarting skin and sighed, taking that one step closer and burying his face in surprisingly soft locks. He had thought that the salt from the sea would have made them crude, edgy and stiff, but the dreadlocks and braids were quite the opposite. Sparrow stiffened when an arm was slung around his waist, his hands and one of James' trapped between their chests with the Englishman's nose breathing in the true scent if a pirate. The massive wings were trembling and James was tempted to caress them like he had always wanted to when he thought of his Curatrix. "Jamie, lad?"

"Your my Curatrix, my Jack." Norrington contentedly murmured, nuzzling the shorter man's hair, making the hands around his convulse. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Did you get down into the liquor again, Jamie? I ain't your Curatrix," Jack replied but there was no conviction or honesty or even cruelty in his tone. He sounded as though he desperately wanted to be anywhere else but James could not, for the life of him, figure out why so he assumed Sparrow was just playing one of his silly games. His lips twitched into a smile.

"How did your wings change color? I never heard of that before. Did something happen to make it so? And you've yet to answer my earlier questions." When his hand around Jack's waist traveled downwards and groped a feel, he suddenly found himself on his own behind with a panicked looking guardian backing away from him. "Jack?"

"How did ye find out? Who told you?" The horrified and betrayed sounding pirate demanded. If it was Gibbs, then he will never venture alive out of the Cove ever again. This was mutiny, betrayal of the highest order. Just because he had witnessed them meeting did not mean he had the _right_ to go and-

"Captain Teague gave a not so subtle hint when I asked after you." Well, it would seem he will have to have _words_ with dear ol' Da. He should have known better than to go pushing his nose into other people's business. "Why are you so bothered by this? We finally found each other, Jack. We can finally keep our promise-"

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you, Commodore." Jack cut in, still feeling panicked and backed into a corner. His Pearl purred soothingly but he couldn't hear it over the rushing of his own blood in his ears and the pounding of his heart. "You didn't like me until you found out I was your Curatrix. I'm not the same Jack you once knew. Haven't been for years. It's why I didn't immediately approach you when we first met. Or re-met, but who's keeping track, right?"

"I don't understand," the ex Navy man said as he got back up to his feet and made to move closer but the Curatrix took a step back for ever step forwards that he made. Lead seemed to pile heavily in his stomach as dread settled in. "Jack?"

"You're not thinking straight, savvy?" Sparrow said in a rushed voice. "This is the bond doin' the talking, mate. You hate my guts. You said as much on Isla Cruces. If I wasn't your guardian, you would have never considered calling me by name."

"But you _are_ my Curatrix so your point is null. And of course I'll call you Jack. Or would you prefer to be Teague?"

"My Da is Teague. I'm Sparrow." He replied mulishly and Norrington gave him an exasperated smile.

"You're Jack Edward Teague, my Curatrix."

"I"m afraid he died long ago, Commodore. The last part of him died when Beckett sunk his beloved Wicked Wench and he went down with her. I knew her well." Jack said defiantly. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl. I'm no longer the boy ye knew, James Norrington."

"What happened to him, then?" Asked the now angry green eyed man.

"I grew up." The Captain said seriously. "I saw the world and learned to adapt. I figured out its lies and learned to lie, myself. I'm not that naive boy you've met, Norrington, and you know that. This is your instincts talking. Sit down and think about it before you do or say something you'll regret when you start thinking clearly later on."

"Like what? Loving you since I learned what love was? I'm never going to regret that." At the gawking visage of the older man, James scuffed. "You interested me since I was little and I won't deny that part of it was because you are practically my soulmate. But it's not only that. Even when I didn't know Jack Edward Teague and Captain Jack Sparrow were one and the same, you intrigued me. I at times couldn't stop thinking about you for _days_. And if I really hated you at any point, believe me, you would have been dully informed." He stalked up to Sparrow in three quick strides, caging the pirate in his arms before the other could react. "How did our bond survive me having a hand in your death?"

Sparrow refused to meet his eyes. "I didn't want to let go."

"Well, maybe I didn't, either." When silence was his only answer, he groaned and tightened his hold. "We're going to war tomorrow. We could due-"

"Not gonna happen," declared Sparrow determinedly, black eyes meeting green. "Not while I still exist in any plain of existence."

"It's a possibility. Don't deny it," he hushed when Jack went to protest. "Anything could happen. I'm not saying that it will, but it still might. And I'd rather we not greet death with something weighting our souls with regret." At the hesitant way Jack was looking at him, Norrington sighed and reluctantly let him go, to Sparrow's apparent surprise. "Very well. What must I do to prove to you that this isn't just the bond or your charms at work?"

Jack bit his lip. He really, _really_ wanted to take James up on what he had been offering, but he knew well enough how a Curatrix can affect their Tutela. He'd rather they not get mixed up in that sort of shit. Too much trouble to be worth the effort. But if James was really feeling the same way as Jack was, Curatrix charms and bond effects or not, then Jack didn't want to mess that up, either. Still, either way, tonight was not a night that should be used in such a way. It was already horrendously late and any such ... activity will most definitely not leave them in ship shape in the morning. Even if they did manage to get the right amount of sleep in, they might just not be able to concentrate right. And that _will_ lead one of them to their death.

"Fine. You sure ye want this?" He waited for the nod before giving one himself. "Fine. I savvy. But nothing of that tonight. After this whole mess is sorted, we'll sit down like rational adults and talk about it, see where we'll go from there, savvy?"

"I savvy." James replied with a relieved inward sigh. He wasn't sure why Jack was insisting on this, but he has already waited for the past, what? Thirty years? Sounds more or less right.

"Good." The Pirate Lord nodded to himself once in satisfaction and made little shooing motions at the ex Admiral. "Now of ye go to sleep. Shoo."

Norrington gave him an unimpressed deadpan look. "I came up here because I couldn't sleep. Too much on my mind." Sparrow paused at that, debating with himself. James watched the way emotions flickered across the tanned face and braced himself for it when the man came to a decision. He was not expecting to find himself being pulled along into the captain's quarters just seconds later, pretty much the same as the last time he saw this room. "Jack?"

"Just shut up," was the other's reply as they came to a stop by the bed. If James' eyes weren't deceiving him, he could have sworn Sparrow was blushing so hard his ears were slightly red. But the man's face was turned away from him and Norrington's brain was a little foggy at the moment, just thinking of all the things they could do on the bed. He was pretty sure he himself was blushing even worse than his Curatrix was, if only because his skin was paler and it made his blush obvious. "We're just sleeping. Nothing else."

"Right," he still let himself be tugged onto the bed. It wasn't nearly big enough for two but they squashed themselves together and somehow managed with Jack's face tucked against James' chest, said ex Navy man's chin resting on the top of his head. They kind of had to entangle themselves if they wanted to prevent any sore or stiff limbs in the morning and James was more than happy with that. Jack even had one of his wings out and covering them like a blanket. "Well ... Good night."

He started again when Jack leaned up and gave him a small kiss just shy of his lips before settling down again. "Good night, Jamie."

_'Tease.'_


	33. Chapter 33

Morning came and brought a lot of trouble with the tide.

Through means unknown, Beckett had gotten his hands on the heading for Shipwreck Island and had made it with an impressive armada just in time to be greeted by the gathered pirate ships, coming with the fog. The amount of enemies was demoralizing and yet the pirates had still surged forward into battle when parlay had not worked out as Sparrow had hoped. Elizabeth was dead set on killing Beckett and Barbossa and Jack, the only two she allowed to come with her, were not happy with that no matter how trigger happy either of them might get in Beckett's presence.

Elizabeth couldn't look James in the eyes at all when she returned with his two Lieutenants in exchange for his Curatrix. It had not been her decision to make but she had known Jack could take care of himself and that he had _wanted_ to get on the Flying Dutchman. She hadn't expected Barbossa stealing his Piece of Eight and freeing Calypso. She hadn't anticipated Tia Dalma pretty much leaving them to their fate as soon as she was no longer bound by flesh. Maybe if Jack had been there, she would have indeed granted them assistance beyond a storm that could just as easily kill them as it could be to their advantage. What was more, they weren't just fighting Jones' crew, they were fighting EITC agents and Navy men, the latter more often than not staying James', Groves' and Gillette's hand before they could deliver any crippling or fatal blows.

The fight didn't really seem to be going in their favor. The Black Pearl was living up to its reputation of being the fastest ship to sail the seas and was easily outrunning or just matching the Flying Dutchman in the maelstrom they were using for the battlefield, but they were outnumbered and the Pearl wasn't an indestructible ship like the Dutchman was. Not to mention that only Cotton and Barbossa were left with the skill necessary to survive the turbulent waters and raging winds. The rain wasn't helping any while Jones and his crew seemed unaffected by it. The fact remained that they were no match to the cursed ship and its crew if they were to engage in long term battle. The Pearl could sink while the Flying Dutchman would just resurface again. Add to that that Jack has yet to show his face has left the crew rather uneasy and demoralized.

Elizabeth herself didn't feel high on morals, but she was high in adrenaline. Will had been teaching her to use a sword ever since their first adventure with Jack so she could protect herself, but that didn't make her a match for some of the men here. Thankfully, James or Will were usually by her side, making sure she was fighting only one enemy at a time so she wouldn't be overwhelmed. A one on one duel she could handle, no matter who she was fighting. Any more and she found herself faltering on ever tenth step or so. She was also tiring a lot faster than any of her opponents were, since they could use both superior built and strength against her with little effort while she had to grit her teeth as she held them back. The two Lieutenants seemed to be doing well enough, having decided to fight for their lives rather than to let themselves get killed by cursed pirates, overpaid EITC agents or bribed and bought Navy men.

James, she had noticed, was a lot more distracted than his usual in a fight. It didn't affect the outcome, even when it was three to one, but he had been leaving too many almost openings for Elizabeth to be comfortable and she knew it was all her fault. Jack and James had seemed closer that morning when Jack was leading the big procession of pirate ships from within the Cove out to open sea, idly explaining some random things to Norrington about the whole complicated, dangerous process. The once Commodore had seemed content to just stand by his Curatrix's side and converse but ever since Jack and Elizabeth forbade him and Will respectfully to interfere in the upcoming parlay and left on their own with only Barbossa as company - they needed a witness from the Court, Jack had explained; the Keeper or the Heir to oversee to the rules of parlay and a Pirate Lord to act as witness to the ultimate agreement the Pirate King made and Barbossa was the only Pirate Lord with no other titles attached willing to actually do it, the other six all cowards - and then Elizabeth and Barbossa returned without him, James had not been able to fully focus in what he was doing. He had checked Theodor and Philip over but he had not spoken to them much before they all set out on a warpath. He could fight and he could win but he was distracted - probably with his worry for Jack - and that didn't bode well. She feared he will soon enough make some mistake and Jack will never forgive her if something happened to his Tutela. It was miracle enough that he had been willing to forgive her her transgression of shackling him to the mast and leaving him to die-

 _"You were going to leave us to our fate!_ We _were going to pay your debt!"_

 _"If I wanted to just_ run away _, don't you think I would have_ flown away _!? I was trying to save you lot by leading the beastie on a merry chase so you bloody lot could escape!"_

_"Yeah, right! You would have tried escaping with us and doomed us all!"_

_"I would have stayed with my Pearl even without your bloody shackles! I'm not angry with you because of your choice! That just makes you a damn good pirate! I'm_ furious _you took away_ my _choice, my_ freedom _! I would have stayed. The Captain always goes down with his ship."_

\- but she knew he would never forgive her if she somehow ended up being responsible for James' death. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself either. Protectee or not, James was his Curatrix and he might just end her if she doesn't keep James alive.

Elizabeth stumbled and nearly lost her footing at an unexpected shudder that came from the Black Pearl for no apparent reason. She looked up instinctively to ask what was going on, as if expecting Jack to be there next to her to explain it, but she remembered he was on the Flying Dutchman and her heart fell a little, only to jump in excitement when she saw him, with the chest in hand, on the cursed ship, being propelled by one of the lines up onto the top mainmast yardarm and balancing precariously for a moment before he engaged Davy Jones himself in a duel.

Before she knew it, she and Will were racing for the nearest line that would rope them across the raging whirlpool and onto the other ship.

They were in the endgame now.

00000

James had seen Jack launch himself up high, too, but he couldn't find an opening to jump over and join them. He was too busy fighting side by side with Gillete and Groves that he had no chance to leave their side and go after his Curatrix without leaving a deadly opening for anyone to exploit. And if one of his friends _dies_ because of him, he was not sure he could meet Jack's eyes ever again without feeling the need to drown himself in a bottle of rum. Because Jack wouldn't _blame_ him, not even when James _wanted_ to be blamed. Sparrow was a pirate. He had seen death and he was familiar with it, perhaps more so than any Navy bred man could ever be. And as a Curatrix, death was not a permanent state to him but it was to all others who he lived with every day that did not have a Curatrix.

How was it for him, to know he will be reborn some day again, after death, if he is not content or if his Tutela is not content, while many of those he'd come to know he will never meet again. Was it hard to live with that knowledge? To form bonds and friendships? Is that why Barbossa's betrayal had hurt so much? It was a possibility. James just wished such pain wouldn't be placed on his Curatrix's shoulders, for it was apparent Jack was trying to hide a heart too big and too kind for the life he was born into.

And he didn't even know what the gods expected of him, that much was clear. But James knew. He was cursed with that knowledge, even if they were just snippets of future events, ever since he had decided to ask a gypsy about his Guardian. Life had been cruel to Jack enough as it is but the gods expected more, have placed so many responsibilities and duties on Jack's shoulders and he didn't even know about it. He was living his life one day at a time, surviving through each adventure and slowly fulfilling a destiny no one told him about. James wondered if Jack had ever stopped to ask himself why he got the power he has or if he had just accepted it as a fact and let it become a part of him that simply goes without saying. And he couldn't help but wonder when Jack turned from a boy who carelessly let his wings unfurl with his emotions to a man who flinched when someone spoke of his Curatrix nature. Elizabeth had told him some about the Black Pearl's meeting with Beckett, so James could venture a guess. He still mourned it, though, just like the change in color. Jack Teague's wings had always been pretty in James Norrington's eyes, but they had a different sort of beauty to them now. It was like comparing the beauty of a completely white and a completely black horse. Each was beautiful in its own way, whether it was the purity of white mane and fur or the gleam that come off of the impossibly dark mane and fur of a black horse.

James cursed as his musings almost cost him an eye, had it not been for Groves' last minute intervention. Maybe Sparrow was right. Maybe he needed a little time to get used to the idea that his Curatrix was now within arms' reach, because if he continued going on like this, he really _won't_ get another chance to dwell on weather he preferred Jack's new wing design or his old sparrow-like one. James nearly snorted as he thought about the irony of it all. Jack E. Teague once had a wing pattern of a sparrow, but Jack Sparrow has completely black wings. Jack Sparrow's gem is a black pearl and he named his precious ship the Black Pearl. Which was also black. Norrington frowned, even as he skewered one of Jones' men that had moved to attack Gillette.

Jack's wings were totally black, as was his ship, hence the name Black Pearl. Could it be that Jack's wings changed color when the Pearl sank and he bargained his soul for her return? What about the Pearl? Had _she_ ever been of a different color?

As if in response, the vessel shuddered in what could almost be described as an _excited_ manner, which in turn caused several sailors on both sides to stumble. Their enemies lost their footing completely and fell into the abyss of the giant whirlpool, while ropes and lines snapped out to snag around arms, legs, waists and torsos of the Pearl's permanent and temporary crew, as though the ship was sentient and aware enough to make a difference. The way the other free lines were whipping about and interfering with the fights in her crew's favor, perhaps she was. This was Jack Sparrow's ship we are talking about!

Just one more reason for James to survive this fight. He has so many questions he wants to ask of his Curatrix, so many things that confuse him, that interest and intrigue him. Most of all, he wants a chance to understand and get to know the man Jack had become over the years.

And he wants a repeat of last night and so much more. He had not felt as safe, secure and _wanted_ \- _loved_ \- as he had on Jack's and his embrace in his entire life. It had felt as though he had finally found his way home and that he could belong no where else as he did there. He didn't _want_ to belong anywhere else, for that matter. His place was at Jack's side. There's no place he'd rather be. And that might be his Tutela side speaking, but he knew that, if nothing else, he and Sparrow could be friends. It's not hard to do better than their fathers and grandfathers, but it will still take some work. Mostly because of how much James had fucked up.

He'll make it up to Jack, he'd already decided on that. Just as soon as they dealt with Davy Jones and Cuttler Beckett.

He looked up towards the Flying Dutchman, just in time for his stomach to follow Jack in his plummet after Jones shook him off, momentarily forgetting that Jack had wings and that Jack could fly. But the winds were strong and the rain was heavy. It wasn't safe to just _fly_ , and yet Jack spread his massive wings and they caught the wind easily, propelling Jack upwards-

Only for Ian Mercer to shoot straight at him from the deck, the wing span surprising James as it was only a couple of feet smaller than Jack's. But the wings looked rotten and Norrington recalled everything he had ever read about a fallen angel. Only Mercer had to have been somewhere higher in the hierarchy, for him to have so huge a wings. And he nearly matched Jack in strength of said wings as well, managing to grapple with him despite the wind that should have unsettled their flight and made it near impossible. Jack was too distracted, always looking over to where Jones now held the Dead Man's Chest, and it was costing him point against Mercer.

Deciding he'd been nothing more than a spectator long enough, James called to his friends that he was leaving and finally spotted the opening he needed to board the other ship. Gripping his sword tight as he swung over the abyss, he grunted at nearly hitting the railing on the Flying Dutchman as he was landing. He was immediately attacked by two EITC sailors, but he was given a little relief when Bootstrap sprang to his aid, taking on one of them while James got his footing. They both jumped in surprise when Mercer and Jones crashed into a few crates and barrels a few feet from them, the debris cutting a small slice on James' left cheek and another nearly gouging Bootstrap's eye out. Both men looked up to see that Jack had caught the chest and was grinning down at them, black wings beating powerfully in the wild wind as he kept himself steady. Obviously, he had overpowered Mercer again and had used him as cannon fodder against Jones, which caused said cursed pirate to lose his precarious balance on the yardarm and fall down onto the deck.

Something much smaller fell near the two and Bill and Norrington looked at it with curiosity and then dawning realization. The key. The key was but five feet away, but the two very dangerous and very deadly otherworldly men were only nine feet away as well, no matter how disoriented.

The ex Admiral didn't need more than a second to spring into action. However, by the time he had the key in hand, the two not-humans had already recovered enough to do some grappling of their own and despite Mercer being a practically divine creature - or he at least _used_ to be one - Jones easily snapped his throat _from the inside with his tentacles_ before he threw the dead body overboard. It burned a black fire before it could reach the water, the ashes whipping up towards the heavens to return the power Ian Mercer had abused. James was running before Jones could realize why, but Bill lunged at the Captain with a war cry, obviously intent on giving James time to reach Jack.

Who was already waiting for him with a somber look on his face, ready to unlock the chest and end this. Which caused James to pause with his arm half outstretched towards his guardian. His guardian, who was ready to stab the heart. "Jack," he said desperately, not even trying to hide it. "Jack, don't do this! We have the heart now! We can command Davy Jones! You don't have to stab it!"

"Maybe I don't," the pirate replied in a grave tone of voice. "And maybe I do. I don't know, savvy? I just feel ... I need to do _something_ , Jamie!" And Jack sounded as frustrated as his Tutela felt. The ex Commodore watched him bring up his hands to clutch at his hair, one holding a broken cutlass, the other the handle of the wildly swinging chest that must be hurting Jack every time he whacked himself with it. Jack really _was_ ready to stab the heart, the younger of the two thought with sinking dread. "I don't know why, but something's ... _compelling_ me to do it! I don't _want_ the Flying Dutchman! I only want you and my Pearl and a distant, open horizon."

"You ... you don't know." It was as though he was realizing this for the first time all over again. As though he had not known this just moments ago. But being _face to face_ with Jack fulfilling his destiny but not knowing _why_ ... "You really don't _know_."

"Jamie?" The Captain of the Black Pearl asked with confusion plain in his voice and yelped when he was yanked into his Tutela's arms. "James? What's wrong, love?"

Before he could answer, though, they both heard Elizabeth calling William's name and were just in time to see Turner junior fall to the deck, unarmed, with Jones standing over him, cutlass ready to stab _his_ heart. And before James could register what Jack was doing, the pirate had wrung himself from his embrace and had taken the key, planting a single kiss to his cheek.

"I'm sorry, love." And then he was off, key already unlocking the chest and James could do nothing to stop him as he took out the heart.

"Jack!"


	34. Chapter 34

"William Turner," he heard Davy Jones ask mockingly and grit his teeth as he straightened up, ready to do what needed to be done if it came to it. Davy Jones has terrorized the seas long enough. "Do you fear death?"

"Do you?!" He called before Jones could stab Will, seeing relief flash across the faces of both the whelp and his lass. Jones face, though, was far more priceless and Jack thanked his incredible memory for allowing him to remember this one moment for a very long time to come. Jones deserved it, to feel the crippling fear of realizing your life hangs in the balance and that it could end at the whim of another man. He had reveled in that feeling for too many years, enjoyed seeing sailor after sailor give into it and accept the cursed immortality of the Flying Dutchman's claim. He had wanted _Jack_ to fold like so many others before him, but Jack would not, _refused_ to be cowed. He had something to fight for, to return to and he sent his apologies to his bonny ship for what he plans to do if Jones doesn't back down. "Heady tonic, that. Holding life and death in the palm of your hand, isn't it, Captain?"

"You're a cruel man, Jack Sparrow," spat the squid faced cursed pirate, glaring at him although even that burning rage couldn't hide the dread and fear in Jones' eyes. The heart in his hand was beating serenely, but its owner was anything but, no matter how much he had suffered under this curse. He was just like any other tyrant who had come to power, fearing for his life and clinging on to it while putting up a front of not having a care in the world. But Jack knew better, could _feel_ Davy Jones' fear and part resignation. But he could feel something else there that had him tense for a fight, like a bowstring ready to snap.

"Cruel's a matter of perspective." He replied, hand tightening on the broken cutlass, but he wasn't fast enough.

"Is it?" Jones asked before sticking his sword through Will's chest, right through his heart. He heard Elizabeth's wail of denial as Will cried out in pain before he saw Bootstrap, enraged and desperate and vengeful, rush at Davy without so much as a thought to his own safety. How he managed to tackle the taller man would remain a mystery to Jack, who was now left with a choice. Everything in him screamed that he _had_ to stab the heart, but his own heart and his Curatrix nature insisted he provide his protectee with the only means of survival the whelp will get. He could feel Will's grip on life slackening by the second, no matter how hard he was fighting it. It will be over shortly and Elizabeth was already sobbing, making Jack's heart wrench with pain and sympathy for her.

He looked over his shoulder, where he saw James, looking grief stricken but still panicked whenever his eyes fell on the heart in Jack's hand and the sharp metal shared pointed at it. Green eyes met his, not begging, not asking, simply staring at him and Jack knew he couldn't put Jamie through this. He couldn't put _Lizzy_ through this. He knew he wouldn't have been able to take it if James was in Will's place. He was a Curatrix. He loved James at a depth no human can love another. It didn't matter which form it took, the love a Curatrix felt for their Tutela was absolute. James' death might just be his undoing if he ever sees it. And maybe James felt the same way about him. Jack _wanted_ , more than he can explain, he _wanted_ to give them a chance, but he hadn't dared last night because he had seen how some Tutela react to their Curatrix, only to later decide that is not the form they want their relationship to be. He wanted for him and James to start off on the right foot, despite them meeting as opponents the second time around and ever since until recently. No more regrets between them.

They could get that chance if he saves their friend and that was more than a tipping point for Jack. He nodded at Norrington before sprinting to the downed Turner, placing the heart carefully on the deck next to Will's hand while James ran off to help Bill, understanding what the eccentric Captain of the Black Pearl was aiming for. Elizabeth looked up at him but Will's eyes were already closing and Jack didn't hesitate to wrap Will's hand around his broken cutlass, positioning it for the final stab. He looked up at Elizabeth and saw her teary eyes and he nodded at her, guiding Will's hand until it was directly over the heart and letting it fall. The squashy organ gave no resistance and the broken cutlass sank into it without problem and they both felt it and heard when Jones realized what had happened. The rain had stopped and the wind had slowed when they both looked up to the soon to be ex Captain of the Flying Dutchman looked both resigned and furious. Without prelude, he whirled around and stabbed the person behind him before he toppled over the railing of his ship and fell into the abyss with Calypso's name on his lips.

The jolt of cold dread and painful sorrow told Jack immediately who it was that had been on the receiving end of that stab and he cried out the ex Commodore's name like a wounded animal. He left Elizabeth's side and scrambled over to where Bill was lowering the harshly breathing man onto the deck, having already taken out the bloody sword that had dealt the deadly blow. The older Turner looked sorrowfully at his Captain, seeing the tears streaming down his face now that there was no rain to mask them.

"No. No no no no no no no." Jack denied, over and over again, taking his Tutela into his arms and cradling James' head to his chest and rocking like a broken, grieving man. James was gasping for breath, his lungs pierced in a manner that Jack knew couldn't be fixed, no matter what a doctor or a voodoo witch might be able to do. And he didn't know much about magic or sorcery or voodoo or whatever in order to be able to do something even with his feathers. He wasn't even sure if he _could_ do something. He had lifted a curse or two before and what he had done in the Locker was something entirely different. He couldn't do anything and Jamie was slipping through his fingers.

"Jack," the Navy man choked out and Jack held on tighter even as the ship gave an ominous shudder. "Jack."

"Stay with me, savvy? You have to stay with me!" The Curatrix insisted, burying his nose in James wet hair and breathing in his scent like a drowning man breathing in air for the first time in years. "Please." Jack begged. He had never begged before but he will beg now. He will beg every deity and demon that he can name and those who he can't as long as it would help. He has no pride where giving it up can grant him James' survival. "Please. Just stay with me. You can't just ... Not when we still haven't ... "

A cold hand touched his face as sobs choked him and tears drowned out his voice. He looked through blurry eyes into glazed green ones and James smiled up at the Curatrix, as if content. _No no no no nonononononono_. This was not happening. It _can't_ be happening! If it was happening, then that meant Jack had failed as a Curatrix. He'd broken all of his promises to his Jamie, that he will protect him, come back for him, that they'd run away and be together where their lives don't reach them. He'd failed, he'd failed, James was _dying_ , oh god-

"Jack ... I love ... you." Black eyes widened as green ones closed and the hand touching his face went slack, hitting the deck. Jack's mind alerted him of the silvery light cracks appearing on the surface of the black pearl, a warning mirage of what is to come and a fresh wave of tears overwhelmed him, whispering back the words into the ear of his unresponsive Tutela. James' heart was struggling to keep him alive, beating either frantically or sluggishly and there was a trail of blood from his mouth.

Suddenly, Sparrow found himself gently yanked away from his fallen Tutela, concerned and grieving blue eyes of Bill Turner meeting his own even as the other man pushed him towards where Elizabeth was trying to call Will back into consciousness. "You need to go. You need to _go_ , Jack!" He insisted when Jack did not react in any way, as though only an empty shell remained. "You need to go and take Elizabeth with you!"

"I won't leave without him." Jack said, some determination seeping into his voice when his stomach rebelled at the mere idea of leaving his Jamie behind. His wings unfurled ominously behind him, threatening, his eyes filling with cold rage.

"You can't do anything for him," Bill said apologetically. "But he wouldn't want you to _do_ this, Jack! He'd want you to save yourself and Elizabeth."

"Why should I?" Asked the guardian coldly, all human compassion having left him. The angel side, the one that does not comprehend pain the way a human does, was taking over and leaving the Curatrix numb. A Curatrix mostly in angel mode was a weapon of revenge and destruction. Jones was dead but Beckett would _pay_ \- "I could just die now and we'd reincarnate some other time to be together again.'

"Would he be happy for the way you gave up? Because of him? He might never forgive himself." Turner tried to reason. There was a flash of the old Jack back and Turner pushed his advantage. "He'd think it was his fault and he's already blaming himself enough for the Kraken. Don't do this, to either yourself or to him." He pleaded, shaking the Curatrix's shoulder. "Please, Captain. Just take Elizabeth and go. The Pearl is waiting for you."

Sparrow came back to himself, both at what his friend was saying and at finally hearing the song of his item again. He frowned at Bill, confused and panicked and worried. "What about you?"

"I'll take care of these two." Bill replied, looking at Will's and James' still forms. It hurt seeing them both like this, especially since his heart was tearing apart for his Jamie. His Tutela was now out of reach. "I shouldn't have even _been_ here. I _am_ here only thanks to you, my friend. And I will now pay for all my sins in one go. So go, Jack. The living have no place on the Flying Dutchman."

And as much as it hurt to turn away from his charge, Jack knew Bill was right and that, if nothing else, Elizabeth didn't deserve to die and Weatherby didn't deserve to this time finally really lose his daughter. So he turned his back on James Norrington and marched over to Elizabeth Swann recently married Turner and picked her up just as the Flying Dutchman's crew started approaching Will with the Dead Man's Chest and some blade or knife or something. Jack didn't look because he knew it would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his days. Instead, he got a strong, secure grip on Elizabeth, nodded to Bill and took flight, just barely missing the yardarm of the top mainmast as the Flying Dutchman started tilting, soon to be swallowed by the sea. He tried and failed to turn a deaf ear to Elizabeth's sobs, knowing his own eyes were still leaking tears and puffy and red, but he had to guide them through the last of the storm.

And as soon as they were well away from the remains of the maelstrom, the whirlpool dragged the Dutchman into the depths and both Elizabeth and Jack clung to each other in their grief. Her face was buried in his chest, clutching onto his waist as though he might disappear if she doesn't hold on tight enough and Jack was hiding his face in her hair, wishing desperately that this was not real, that he had not just seriously left James, _Jamie, his TUTELA_ to be claimed by Calypso and death and he dared not glance to the braid that used to house his gem.

The worried singing of his Pearl had him brought back out of his grieving and he knew that this was not over. He had made Will the Captain of the Flying Dutchman. That cursed ship will be springing up again anytime now but Jack had some things to do first. He couldn't let this madness consume him and the Black Pearl was doing a spectacular job in grounding him, just like she had in the Locker. He knew he could always count on her and he counted on her now to not let him fly apart. So he opened his eyes and greeted reality with a sort of ruthless determination to get his revenge. For his mutiny and stealing his item, Jack had punished Barbossa by stealing life from him just when the curse was lifted, before his once first mate could really enjoy all it entails to be alive again. For taking his Tutela from him, for once burning down his item and _getting them all in this mess in the first place_ ... Jack will make Beckett _pay_.

He landed with ease on the deck of his ship and gently handed Elizabeth over to Groves and Gillette, who seemed to realize what had occurred and were trying not to show their grief. They were only partially successful. Jack ignored the nonsense that Gibbs and Barbossa were trying to shove down his throat, marching up to where Mr Cotton stood, yelling orders. The Pearl tried to sooth his rampaging, raging emotions, but the chaos was too loud in his head to even fully register what she was trying to get across, let alone what the others were saying. He belayed every belay or order Barbossa gave and instead ordered for a close haul, with the sails luff and cuffed in iron. He wants Beckett to come to _him_ so Jack can _humiliate_ and _destroy_ him. Beckett had crossed the line many times before and Jack has finally had enough.

The white crab on his shouldered clicked uneasily with its claws, feeling the tension like the rest as the Endeavor approached in all her slow, smug glory. Beckett probably expected Jack to surrender to him now, though Jack didn't know if Cutler realized Jack was currently living on only half his soul. That's what it felt like, anyway. It felt like he wasn't all there and if he were thinking straight, Jack would realize it was because his angelic side, the infinite rage only a being with origins in some form of divinity can hold, was trying to take over. He wanted revenge and he was going to get it.

"Ready the guns!" He called just as he felt the Flying Dutchman rising towards the surface. There was a mixture of horror and triumph when the cursed ship, shedding its sea life and instead leaving human sailors and a beautiful vessel in their wake, burst to the surface and a similar order was shouted from the helm. There stood Will, an ugly and seemingly still fresh scar on his chest, commanding his new crew the way he had learned from Jack, Bootstrap filling in where his less experienced son faltered. Jack bared his teeth in a feral grin at his first mate, both former and current, and gave one order that sent the whole ship cheering. "Full canvas."

Barbossa returned it just as eagerly. "Aye, full canvas!"

"Prepare the powder!" Gibbs shouted and the Pearl _purred_ in delight at the chance at her own revenge. For both herself and what Beckett had done to her Captain. She sailed merrily with the speed and elegance for which she was crafted and shuddered in delight when her cannons were in range. She feared not the cannons of the bigger ship. She had faced one even bigger and for her Captain, she would face even bigger. The Endeavor may send shivers of fear down the spines of many, but not the Black Pearl. Not when she was looking to spill blood for her Captain. She was a pirate ship through and through and she could appeal to the ruthless Teague blood coursing through her Captain's veins that he so rarely indulged in. But the time of raids without a single shot fired or a single drop of blood spilled is not now. Now is the time to paint the sea red in sacrifice to the newly freed goddess of the sea and her Jack always knew what to get Calypso to win her favor.

Jack could feel the glee of his Pearl and the panic of her targets on the Endeavor. He usually hated being feared, as he was an unusually gentle pirate, all things considered. He was fair, at the very least. Not cruel. He could find a grain of mercy for almost anyone he came across at sea. It was his way.

"Cap'n." Gibbs called and Jack justed turned to look at him.

 _But not now_.

"Fire." It was not a shout, it barely registered above a whisper, but there was power in that single word that carried it further and surer than any volume would have and it was heard. Oh, was it heard.

"Fire!" Gibbs still called down the ship and the order was repeated and carried to all the cannons and down to the gun decks. Will and Bill did the same on the Flying Dutchman and the two fastest ships in the world started firing on the strangely unresponsive Navy vessel. Jack could feel Beckett's state of utter shock. The man could not call the order to return fire when, only a handful of moments ago, he had eagerly approached the Pearl with the intent of sinking her so he could have Jack for himself. The Teague in his blood called for bloodshed and Jack indulged himself. He ignored the cannon fire and he ignored the jumping ship Navy men as he flew over onto the Endeavor, which was already burning and had started to sink. His Pearl was still viciously sending cannonball after cannonball faster than the fuse should allow, not that anyone other than those who already knew of the _extent_ of Jack's power and the Black Pearl's sentience would notice. It will be a matter of minutes before the Endeavor disappears under the waves and Jack felt no remorse. Maybe he will, later, for all the lives he'd endangered. Maybe he won't, his heart hardened by his Tutela's fate.

But none of it mattered now, as he hovered above the ruined and burning deck, black eyes meeting confused brown of one Cutler Beckett.

"It's just ... good business." Was all the lord could say and Jack sneered as he lifted his pistol, the same one that had been Barbossa's end, his hand gripping it hard enough that his knuckles were paler than Beckett's hand. With the fire burning around him, his wings as black as his ship, the wind wiping his dreadlocks around and the deadly weapon held with a steady hand, Jack Sparrow looked every inch the avenging angel that he was in that moment and Beckett had never feared him more. He had never been as scared of anything or anyone as he was now and he wanted nothing more than to curl up some place safe and hide from Jack's rage.

"You took all that I loved." Jack growled in a low, dangerously deadly voice. "My freedom. My ship. My _Tutela_."

Beckett's eyes widened and he realized what was going to happen, perhaps for the first time only now, despite already having been held at gun point. "Jack-"

"My turn to return the favor."


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, a few years back, when I first wrote this, I had planned to write the last two movies in, two chapters each, plus an epilogue chapter but my exams were coming up so I didn't have the time. Instead, I wrote this onebigger chapter as a sort of summary of all those events.
> 
> I hope you will like it!

The party was in full swing around him and yet Jack Sparrow could not find it in himself enough cheer to even smile. Not even to drink. He sat in one corner of the Faithful Bride in Tortuga, nursing only his second cup when he would have already been on his second barrel had he been of the mind to celebrate. Or to forget. Right now, he wanted to do nothing more than to remember. To remember everything in as vivid a detail as he could, for this might be the last time he will ever get the chance.

It had been funny, the last eighteen years. Yes, who would have thought that the great Captain Jack Sparrow would live so long? Well, get used to it, world, you won't be getting rid of his that easily, especially not after what he had recently learned. He'd been to quite a few parties like these, thrown in his honor, over those eighteen years, seen many a foe of piracy and any other sea dweller brought to an end, lifted a couple of curses here and there and found this or that treasure. Eighteen years ... He still could not believe it had been that long, nor that he and his life have not changed all that much in that length of time. Funny. He always thought time mended all wounds, but he knew _that_ to be as much a falsehood as many other 'facts' about life and especially about love.

He finished his cup and waited until a passing barmaid changed it with a full one, not really paying it all that much attention.

It was a day of celebration as well as a day to mourn. He had actually seen many a days like these, many a parties where people drowned their worries and brought on fake cheer with drink, music and wenches. Eighteen years ago, he would have joined them. Hell, a month ago, he would have joined them, but he could not deny the reality he was living in now. Not any longer. For eighteen years he had clung to a fragile hope and today, it had shattered.

Eighteen years ago, Captain Jack E. Teague 'Sparrow's' Tutela, former Commodore and Admiral of the British Royal Navy and the East India Trading Company James L. Norrington had died in the Battle of Calypso's Maelstrom, leaving behind his Curatrix to pick up the broken pieces of himself after such a loss. Jack had held up pretty well that night, not drinking a single drop of rum in fear he will forget James' face and eyes and the feel and smell of him if he just let himself overindulge like he was certain he was going to in an attempt to _forget_. His father, bless his pirate heart, had been his sober buddy, not celebrating the astounding victory, not talking, not drinking, not singing or playing his damn guitar. He had just handed over the shrunken head of Jack's mother and let Jack take comfort in the presence of his father and the ghostly loving brushes of his mother's spirit for the night. And when Jack nearly broke down from grief, silent as it had been, Teague had gathered his son up into his arms as though Jack were still only an infant and rocked him through his dry sobs without a sound, without a comment. He had been the silent supporting rock Jack had needed and had taken Jack to the Misty Lady, docked right next to a fretting Black Pearl, and let him sleep it off while spending the night watching over him and feeling his pain, like only another Curatrix could.

(Whether he spent the night praying Lawrence Norrington will be able to forgive him or not was not a topic Jack ever brought up. For both his piece of mind and his father's.)

In the morning, when Elizabeth returned red eyed with a familiar chest and an even more familiar sword strapped to her belt, Jack had already been half numb. But when she presented him with the blade Will had made for James, all those long years ago - had it really been, what? Three? It felt an eternity ago, not just a couple of years - he nearly had a real breakdown, right there in front of everyone. He had tried insisting that she keep it - even though every part of his very being was protesting it since it was his Tutela's item - but Lizzy, bless her soul, had declined keeping it, saying despite it being Will's handiwork, it had been James' sword in the end. She had said she had other things to remember her husband by but Jack now only had the sword. He couldn't express how grateful he was in words, so he had only hugged the new Pirate King to his chest and gave her the opportunity to cry it all out. They clung to each other, as they both mourned the loss of James and William both. Their fathers watched solemnly from the sidelines, Teague glaring at anyone who would dare and try to disturb them.

Jack stayed a week in Tortuga, just letting it all sink in. After all, in a relatively short time period, he had been brought back from the dead only for his Tutela to join it. That was going to take a while to get used to, this pain that will follow him throughout the rest of his life. Jack hadn't yet looked at his gem, fearing it was the one representing _him_ and not his Jamie. He wasn't ready to face that possibility just yet, but the sword Elizabeth had given him had had him looking about day four. After all, the little black pearl had once been treasured by Norrington. Even if it represented him, it was still a reminder of his Tutela. Only the gem was _his_ and represented _James_ , not Jack and that had flared a fire of hope through him so strong that he had immediately started asking around. The people of Tortuga knew little about this matter but Jack had ... more aquatic friends that answered his many questions. Knowing what he must do next in order to give James a life away from the Dutchman, Jack set off towards the docks to get his Pearl so they may get underway on the mission of finding the fabled Fountain of Youth.

Only to find a drunk-sleeping Joshamee Gibbs with a teddy bear sleeping in front of where his beloved vessel had been anchored. That bastard Barbossa had mutinied and marooned him _again_ , although he had at least done it in Tortuga. Bad move on Barbossa's part. The Keeper's men were already tracking him before sunset that very same day, but the Pearl had already made off far into the sea and she was in open waters now. None could catch her and she was _furious_ she was separated again. What's worse - and Jack swore he will kill Hector just for _that_ \- Barbossa had went and gotten some witch to put some sort of magical restraints on the Pearl's spirit and his beloved ship can't influence _anything_ that she usually had full access to.

Good thing Jack had thought about something like this happening and he had stashed away the Mao Kun Map in his coat. It still didn't sooth the pain of being without Tutela _and_ his item.

But he still got underway in a small dingy, sailing the sea with the caring and fond guidance of Calypso herself. He sailed and searched and served under a few fake names on various ships before he found himself in England, a couple of years later, just in time to learn of an imposter recruiting people under _his_ name and Joshamee Gibbs also being _arrested and trailed_ under his name. Seriously, it was as though he can't leave anyone alone for five minutes without someone getting into _some_ kind of shitty situation. But he saved Gibbs, only to be double-crossed by the carriage driver and to be delivered before the fat, plump King George or something. Where he was requested to 'lead an expedition' to the Fountain of Youth and where he came face to face with a powdered up _Admiral_ Hector Barbossa. His poor Jamie would be rolling in his grave if Jack wasn't sure he was serving on the Flying Dutchman.

Jack nearly tore Hector limb from limb when the older man said the Pearl was lost. Had he not been restrained, he would have.

Had he not felt her, even if distance and whatever had happened to her muted their connection, he would have taken his own life to end his misery. No James and no Pearl? He can't live with that. And he won't, not if he's got anything to say about it.

He escaped, was saved from a bullet by his father, learned a bit about the Fountain and finally talked to someone about his wings, which had grown another inch in the past two years. His father wasn't very helpful in that regard, but knowing he had his support was soothing. What he was doing in England in the first place, Jack hadn't bothered asking. Perhaps the same reason as Jack himself: a way to get closer to his Tutela, even though Jack knew James wasn't here but perhaps his Da had managed to talk to Lawrence? Maybe they had cleared some of the air between them. After that, he was shanghaied into Edward Teach's - Blackbeard's - crew by Angelica, who was supposedly the captain's daughter and Jack's one time almost bride. He'd escaped from her on the supposed wedding day and now she was pissed at him. It wasn't _his_ fault that he recognized the same kind of lust he'd seen in Beckett's eyes in her. Sure, she grew fond of him later, maybe even to the point that she had really loved him, but Jack had never planned on marrying and having kids. He knew whom his heart belonged to. It would have been cruel to have married her and then left to search the world for Jamie and for adventure. Jack would never be a 'stay at home' kind of husband or father or even pirate, like his Da. He'd probably want to stay out at sea and Angelica hadn't wanted that back then.

He'd been forced to become Blackbeard's tour guide of sorts, to the Fountain of Youth. And they didn't only need him for the directions, either. They needed a mermaid's tear and it was a widely known rumor - fact - that Jack held the favor of mermaids. Sirens hated him, true enough, but mermaids were all inexplicably fond of him. To be expected, as he'd been saving their kind from sailors since he was a teen. He had wanted to warn the mermaids to go away when Blackbeard set up a trap for them, but he was in the light house with said pirate captain, who was a partitioner in the voodoo black magic arts. Blackbeard was a cruel man who had nearly burned the cook to a crisp when Jack had staged a mutiny with the rest of the men forced into the crew, and he would have, had Sparrow not swept in to save the poor lad. Turns out, that was what Teach had wanted. To see the most powerful Curatrix to live as of yet. Jack really hated the fascination men like him and Beckett had in his wings.

He'd joined forces with Barbossa after the stint with the mermaids, getting the Chalices required for the ritual at the Fountain. Jack had wanted _so_ badly to find a way to get James back, but the Profane Ritual is _not_ something he wants to put on James' shoulders. He knew his Tutela would not appreciate it. Even if he were to get the years of a menace like Blackbeard. He and Hector nearly got killed by the Spaniards they were racing against - why must it _always_ be Spaniards? Why can't his life revolve around something _other_ than Englishman and Spaniards? Seriously, he did _not_ like the way that commander had been eying him up. His charms were apparently up too high. Serves the man right to get pinched, hard, by Jack's pet Stony the white stone-like crab that he got from Calypso to watch out for him - but were assisted by Gibbs - whom he will have a talk to about stealing and destroying precious mystic maps like the Charts - and Norrington's two Lieutenants, Groves and Gillette, whom he was delighted to see again even as his heart clenched in pain when he noticed the absence of James amongst their midst. He then led Blackbeard to the Fountain, where Barbossa was meant to accost them before Blackbeard could get any additional years. Long story short, Groves and Gillette died trying to claim the Fountain of Youth for England - he felt like he had lost even more of his Tutela with them gone, and he hadn't thought that possible since he figured out that the Fountain was a no go - Blackbeared unintentionally gave Angelica his years like any father should when they were both dying of frog/toad poison - with the help of Jack, of course - Angelica had sworn vengeance on him and Jack had gotten back his Pearl,even thought that bastard had put his beloved ship in a glass, sealed bottle. Barbossa had given up pretenses that he was a privateer and had returned to pirating like usual, taking off with Queen Anna's Revenge as was per the code since he had killed the previous captain.

They had parted on surprisingly good term, a little more of their old friendship rekindled, Jack had mused as he and Gibbs started searching for a goat and everything else he insisted they would need to release the Pearl from her prison. Perhaps there was a possibility he and Hector will one day be true friends again. It was unlikely, but still a possibility. He and Gibbs searched for a good few years before they found an effective way to release at least the _crew_ that had been stuck on the Pearl. They made pitiful work for a while on land, Jack's luck dwindling by the day until his crew got fed up with him,even Gibbs, and left him to his own devices. Angry, alone and abandoned, Jack had wondered into a pub and traded his Compass - a thing as precious to him as his and Jamie's items and the black pearl still representing their bond - for rum before he realized _what_ he had given and tried to get it back, but was arrested by two red coats.

That set off a series of events that led to Jack meeting Henry William Turner and Carina Smith-Barbossa (it wasn't _that_ hard to figure out, since he could sense some of his protection she inherited from Barbossa and she had his eyes), nearly being executed - again - running from the law - again - taking off to the sea to find the Trident - his last chance to get Jamie back by lifting the curse off of the Flying Dutchman and freeing everyone on board, as was Henry's plan for Will and Bill (the family resemblance was scary, in those three; all three of them utter ninnies when it came to women) - and running from a cursed ship with a crew of (un)dead pirate ghosts. _Again_. Only this time it was Capitán Armando Salazar of the Silent Mary, El Matador del Mar. He had been a lover of Jack's for a few weeks before he realized Jack was a pirate and started hating and hunting him. They had been good together until Salazar decided they should be enemies. So one day, Jack had tricked him in to sailing straight into the Devil's Triangle and the fearsome Silent Mary was no more. It was the same day he had lost his mentor, Captain Morgan, the same day he had become Jack _Sparrow_ , _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. The same day the Wicked Wench and the Compass officially became his.

But Salazar had sworn on revenge and he had returned to take it, a physical enough ghost haunting the seas and destroying pirates everywhere where he came across them. He was, of course, mostly after the man that had handed him such a humiliating defeat, but he wasn't above taking out his rage on everyone else along the way. The journey was tiresome and dangerous and Henry at one point got possessed by Salazar, but they had found the Trident. Poseidon's Trident, the last known artifact to hold the complete power over the sea, hidden by the god himself with only a star map that no man can read - but apparently a bright lass could - and Jack's last chance to free James and finally have him at his side ...

Broken.

That was the only way, you know? To break it. To break every curse in and on the sea, the Trident must be broken. All that _power_ and it was gone. The shift could be felt immediately, not that they didn't _see_ it when Salazar and his crew returned to being human. The following mad dash to freedom ended when Barbossa sacrificed himself so his daughter, her new potential sweetheart, his monkey and his once Captain - and friend - could survive. The Pearl had lifted them from the depths before the water could swallow them, but Barbossa had gone down taking Salazar with him. Two dead men returning to being dead.

Jack had half expected the same to happen to him.

But then he realized he was staying and that the curses across the seven seas were _broken_ and that he could finally be with his Jamie, hope and happiness filling his soul. The Black Pearl had never rushed back towards Shipwreck Cove as fast as it did that day, shortening the trip by at least three days of sail, much to the amazement of the others. Henry now looked at Jack with the same kind of expression Will used to, that eccentric friend who exasperated and amazed and shocked and scared you shitless but whom you'd never change. They were both excited. They'd be seeing their family soon enough. Jack couldn't wait so see how the whelp and his charming murderess will react when they realize he physically hadn't aged a day - Curatrix appearently aged _much_ slower, especially if they were powerful - and he couldn't wait to see and hug and hold James.

True enough, the Flying Dutchman appeared an hour or so after the Black Pearl did. Jack had not gone to shore with Carina and Henry, staying on board the Black Pearl and waiting to see what happened. Will felt alive to his senses again, as did Bootstrap, somewhere aboard the Dutchman, but the loss of Hector was still stinging almost bad enough for Jack not to notice the lack of that fulfilling relief that should have been there now that James was back.

Only he wasn't.

Jack had changed his mind about staying back the second he felt a tingling up his wings and he had unfurled them for inspection, only to be greeted with his, once again, white, brown, gold and black wings, like how he had been born. In his excitement and elation, he had flown over to celebrate with his friends to show them the good news, half expecting James to be there, only for Will to tell him that James had not stayed. The former Commodore went to the afterlife as soon as the curse was lifted, figuring it was where he belonged until the next time.

00000

Sparrow had fled back to the Pearl and sailed away with Barbossa's monkey on one shoulder and Tia Dalma's white crab on the other. He no longer searched for ways to bring James back. His Tutela was resting, preparing for his next incarnation and Jack let him. He sailed the seas for many years until he finally noticed it. He never aged, he never grew weaker, there was always something new only he could do. The world and the people around him changed, grew older but Jack Sparrow stayed the same. Occasionally, his wings would grow a centimeter or two, representing his own growth in power, but Jack never died, no matter how close to death he actually came. His friends grew old and retired or had kids. Their kids then took their places on the Black Pearl, making up the immortal Captain Jack Sparrow's crew. The gods finally addressed him a year after Elizabeth's death - she had not been as robust as his Grandmama but had still lived a long and happy life, outliving Will for a second time - when the world got sick of piracy and finally decided to exterminate them and Jack was chosen by the sixth Brethren Court for the third and final Pirate King, _finally_ revealing to him their plan and expectation of him: to guard the magic of the world and to keep the divine well out of humanity's reach. Another Calypso must never happen.

But the world lost more and more magic with each year that passed. Human technology advanced and there were lesser and fewer partitioners, sorcerers and witches in the world by the day, either executed or no longer learning. Piracy was on the brink of extinction when Jack called back all remaining pirates to take refuge in Shipwreck Cove. He finally buried his father just before that mess started and he now held both titles as Keeper and King, despite the Code being adamant against it. But he was the only pirate, let alone Pirate Lord, with enough experience to lead them right. They hid for a decade before venturing out into the world again, and much had changed. A new brand of piracy had started taking root, a type completely independent and uncaring for the Code and they grew worse and worse by the decade. The world had continued spinning and turning and changing and Jack was forced to keep up with it from the shadows. He met great people and made marvelous friends and even acquired some spectacular enemies. He saved many lives in the two world wars and any other skirmishes that happen out in the sea, but the presence of the military in the oceans pushed him back and that actually let the new piracy spread like a disease. Human trafficking became worse than slavery ever had been, because they were sold for all sorts of reasons, from all over the world and even to some governments. The black markets filled with dangerous drugs and liquids, the weapons of war became even more destructive than they had _ever_ been - Jack had _seen_ what happened in Japan, what the 'Americans' had done and he had never been so disgusted with humanity.

Calypso kept protecting the Pirates of the Old, as they call themselves these days, shielding Shipwreck Island from new technology and any form of detecting. She also alerted Jack to where major shipwrecks were happening. These new metal boats sank faster than any old fashioned ship Jack had ever seen. The Titanic had left him feeling cold and resentful towards the higher classes, as he had _seen_ how much space there was in some boats had the rich and pompous been _less_ so and let more people sit with them. _Lives_ were at stake, not that it _mattered_ to them. So many had frozen and died, so many had he had to stay with until the Flying Dutchman - with some poor new bloke as Captain (he never did ask Calypso how she got _this_ one, for the same of his sanity) - came to pick them up and cross them over. Jack Sparrow was disappointed with humanity but he never said anything. The Pirates of Old were few and far in between. They still operated under the Code and the Brethren Court, they still had authority over their claimed territories, but the new pirates were true terrorists and the governments of the world didn't see a difference between the two sides.

Jack was starting to lose his mind and he knew it, which meant quite a bit. He had waited for about three hundred years to be with his Tutela again, but James didn't seem so keen on returning to this pathetic plane of existence. Smart man. He wouldn't have liked what their world had become. It was by no means great in their time of birth, but people were at least _trying_ not to appear corrupt. Now there was a Beckett in every seat of power and Jack was left alone to deal with them. He had seen so many loved ones and friends die, felt so many of their souls cross over in death that he was always surprised when he felt it again every next time. He had been sure he had gone numb, but it always came back and it always surprised him. Any other Curatrix would have gone _mad_ a _long_ time ago.

And _speaking_ of Curatrix and Tutela, skepticism is the new black, it would seem, as rarely _anyone_ believed in Curatrix anymore so an entire _race_ had to hide their entire lives. Only every twelfth Curatrix met their Tutela but every third bond was broken. There had been another 'witch hunt' during the peace time between the two wars, although, thankfully, it had lasted only a month. Still, many Curatrix had died and even some Tutela as well. Mystical bonds were not appreciated in the modern world. And Jack had come to resent it. Even if he _did_ ever find James - a thought more unlikely with every death anniversary where he holds and empty glass and blankly stares at the sword that belonged to Commodore Norrington in his cabin with his two immortal pets trying to keep him out of his spunk - again, in this modern age, it was unlikely James will accept him. He may even _break_ their bond, a thought that truly terrified Jack. That would be it. The thing that shattered an indestructible fortress like it was a castle of glass. He almost _wanted_ to miss any reincarnation of his Tutela if it meant avoiding _that_ ever happening. Because he _wanted_ to be with James again. Until eternity and beyond.

The Pirate King sighed and paid his bill, knocking back his drink as he stood up. All around him, drunken men and tipsy or smashed women were laughing and singing and just plain having fun or bringing on the cheer in the most artificial way known to man. He had been sitting here for the entire day, moping about James' death, like he did every year on the man's birthday. His death anniversary was a private and completely sober thing but Jack wanted to drink in his charge's name on the day he had been born and gifted to Jack as the other half of his soul, even though that wasn't the most accurate description. So he'd go some place cheerful and try to let it wash over him but even his Curatrix empathy couldn't lift his mood. Jack the Monkey chattered on his shoulder, holding the white stone-like sleeping crab as Jack made his way out of the pub. The monkey was sad since they had actually ran into some familiar faces earlier that day but they were not the people they knew.

Elizabeth, Will, Barbossa and Gibbs had somehow all been reincarnated, despite not being Tutela. Sparrow had heard of it happening before, but he had never met anyone to have gone through it. As was expected, there was no recognition on their faces when they saw them, Barbossa carrying a baby Carina while Elizabeth and Will were strolling with him through the park, Henry in his mother's arms. Bill seems to be alive again as well, but they hadn't seen him. Jack the monkey had been heartbroken when Hector didn't greet him warmly like the once Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea used to and Jack had felt cold and alone when Gibbs didn't recognize him. The children had instantly fallen in love with Jack but their parents were wary and so Jack had left as soon as he could. He was actually pretty sure he marched right past a certain pair of Lieutenants before he started running away from Angelica - she had found a different source to the Fountain of Youth and had kept adding herself years so she can avenge her father and chase Jack across the globe.

The day was simply too full of nostalgic memories and his mind always brought him back to the way things used to be before. He could rarely sail the Pearl anymore, unless he made a tourist attraction out of her, but that rarely ended well. Gods, he missed the good old days, when there was still so much to see and an open horizon for him to sail towards. The world felt so small and claustrophobic these days and he knew part of it was because he _desperately_ wanted to see his Tutela again.

When he stepped out of the pub, he grimaced at the polluted air - his memory was still as great as it used to be and _he_ , if no one else, can testify just how much the cars and factories have polluted the air - but he was used to it by now. Only Shipwreck Island and especially the Cove actually have _any_ fresh air anymore. But the cool night was a nice contrast to the stuffy pub and he reveled in being alone again, even if only because he wasn't crowded in. He looked up towards the sky and grimaced when he could see barely one or two of the brighter stars. Another thing he hated about modern society. Stars were one of the few things he had first been taught as a sailor. He'd relied and lived by them for centuries before the flashy lights of big cities erased them from the night sky. He also didn't like how satellites and planes mimicked the twinkle of the stars but he _did_ like airplanes occasionally. It was _fun_ to fly so high. Even _he_ can't reach that altitude. It would have been too taxing when the sir wasn't thick enough for him to breathe properly.

The pirate heaved another sigh and moved to start his short trek to his temporary accommodations when he heard a scuffle just before he saw five men gang up on one guy and _shove him out onto the busy street_. The approaching car beeped in alarm and tried to change direction or hit the breaks, but the driver didn't have the time to properly react but Jack _did_ -

Without thought, without awareness, he found himself wrapping the stranger in his massive wings - still black; they change color now, if he concentrates, so they could go back to their original coloring if he wished it so; a great party trick for the numerous Turner kids he'd entertained over the years - and taking the brunt of the hit. A Curatrix is sturdier than either a car or a human when their in protection/combat mode so he's relatively fine. Only he had hit his head and everything was slowly spinning out of focus and his line of vision was narrowing with each blink.

The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was recognition fill familiar green eyes before all turned black.

00000

"You're an utter _fool_ , Jack Sparrow," was the words the greeted him upon his return from the dream world, as well as a heavy body immediately joining him in a dingy of an uncomfortable hospital bed, arms holding him tight and a shaky breath ghosting his ear. The voice was so achingly posh and familiar that tears ran down Jack's face without him even noticing it. "A damn _fool_. I thought I lost you again and just when I finally _found_ you!"

"Please don't let go." Jack begged in return, wrapping his own arms tight around the man pinning him to the bed. "Please don't be a dream, Jamie. I won't survive if you are."

"Idiot." James Norrington, reborn and alive, said with a sobbed out chuckle, burying his nose in Jack's hair, as wild as ever and still smelling of the sea, as though it was in his pores and blood since he was born. "I'm not a dream or a hallucination. I thought _you_ were when I first saw you. I ... "

"You remember?" The Pirate King couldn't help but ask. In the distance, a long way away from the hospital, he could hear the Black Pearl singing in worry and relief. He wondered briefly for how long he was out.

"Of course I do! It's pretty hard to forget _Captain Jack Sparrow_ ," Norrington said with a chuckle. He looked and sounded and moved and spoke just how Jack remembered and it was a comfort unlike any Jack had felt in a very, _very_ long time. His Da's death had taken almost all of what was left of it and only his Pearl and the constant presence of his two pets had remained but he had still too often felt that it was just ... not enough. But James was here now, his charge, his Tutela, his _soulmate_. He'd waited and served dutifully the gods for this moment and it was suddenly all oh so worth it. "Although that might be a problem. Your wings _are_ quite the sight. You're the topic of the week. We'll need to get you out of here before someone comes to question you. I don't think they'll believe your story." James cocks his head to the side, studying the way Jack's appearance hadn't changed almost at all in the past almost three hundred years. He still had all his mementos weaved into his hair and more. He still wore his coat with its numerous buttons, although it was now folded on the table next to the hospital bed. Everything else was modern so he could fit in but he still wore his old clothes out at sea and around the Cove. "Did you actually live for three centuries?"

"Better believe it, love."

"The gods?" It didn't sound much like a question even if it was posed as one. The darker skinned man arched an eyebrow. They would be having a more in depth conversation on this topic later, it would seem.

"Aye. You don't seem surprised."

The Englishman shrugged with a sarcastic smirk. "I once met a gypsy who kind of told me what to expect. I doubt your work is complete."

"Yeah, I figured as much myself."

"We need to get you out of here. Now."

"Not leaving you ever again, James Norrington. I've loved you for three hundred years and waited for you just as long. I'll be _damned_ if we get separated now. Savvy?" He held on tight to emphasize his words and James delighted him with a fond laugh and a tightening of his own grip.

"I did say _we_. I don't plan on letting you go, either, moron. It would ruin the whole point of this reunion." The Tutela grinned as he finally leaned back a little from the shorter man. He had practically caged Jack in and for the first time, Sparrow was completely okay with that. Not with the memory of the last time he touched this man, James was wet and cold and _dying_ , was now being chased away by the warm skin under his fingers and the soft lips brushing against his in their first real kiss that knocked the air out of their lungs despite how chaste it was. They broke apart when the monkey screeched for their attention, pointing out the door and down the hall where someone had to be coming their way. The two sailors grinned at each other as James lifted himself and the Curatrix out of the bed and fathered the two animals and his sword - and hadn't he just been _delighted_ when he saw it. He had feared it was lost to time or that he would have to search for it again - while Jack quickly put on his coat. Jack was even more excited to see that James hair was as long as it had been after Tortuga and was in much the same style, the hair tie a silver string with a black pearl attached that glinted in greeting to him. The representation of himself in their bond, returned to James when he was born again. He had not noticed when he himself got back the pearl representing James, as he would have been in a dark place when that happened - James looked about as old as he had been when he had originally perished - and he had not really dared _look_ at his gem since the destruction of the Trident. He was glad everything was back to normal.

"Will you regret it? Are you leaving anything behind?" Jack asked even as he unfurled his wings, letting them flash momentarily their original color - just to show off to his Tutela and James _did_ seem interested in this new phenomenon - before they settled back to black. It appeared to be night outside and black wings will better blend in with the sky than white and gold ones.

"I'll be leaving behind a life I never wanted, never enjoyed. I love the sea and I love _you_. There is nothing for me here."

Jack had to grin at that as he came to hug his soon to be passenger. They won't have trouble escaping the notice of whoever might search for them. Jack's wings had grown and strengthened, now a full twenty feet long wing span with more than enough power and durability to carry them halfway across the ocean, if Jack was up to it. He was sure Jamie would love it. "Are you ready?" He asked with an elated smile. They were finally going to fulfill their promise. It was a long time coming.

"I was _reborn_ ready." James replied with an excited grin of his own and a loving kiss to the shorter male's lips. They'll have to do that more often. It really feels great. The crab and monkey had some sort of cheer between them and Jack just smiled. Fate had brought them together, tore them apart and tested them both, Jack with relentless tasks from the gods and James for the depth of his love for the gods' chosen champion. Now fate had brought them back together again to start a whole new journey. It was a big world out there. There were still relics that the gods wanted returned or destroyed. But they would do it together this time. And this time, not even _fate_ could tear them apart.

The gods approved immensely, especially the ones particularly fond of one Jack Edward Teague 'Sparrow'. Calypso just smiled and wondered when she could visit.

And when the detectives, doctors and nurses entered the hospital room a minute later, it was to an open window and a far off outline of black wings in the moonlit sky, flying off towards the sea, a black ship and a new adventure.

**THE END**


End file.
